Hunting King Arthur
by d'elfe
Summary: This story is the continuation of 'All hail to the King' and 'the lone knight' posted in the King Arthur section of the Frances series. Frances and Kristan join SG1 to Camelot in hopes of finding Merlin's weapon.
1. Chapter 1 - Daniel Jackson's return

**_Hello, _**

**_this is part of the Frances' series. you can find her timeline on my profile. The beginning of this story can be found in 'Frances in the stars' and is currently in progress._**

**_This particular part happens ten years later. Frances had travelled in the past to the King Arthur time (movie 2004) and met Tristan. She fell in love with him; he died on the battlefield. Finding that the man has reincarnated (check my story 'the lone knight'), she is reunited with him._**

**_for a long time, the SGC was not aware of her ability to travel through time. But now they know, and need her and her knight to _****_help finding Merlin's weapon. ep 9x20._**

**_Frances' life is rather complicated. I advise you read the stories in chronological order if you want to get the big picture. In standalone, there might be fuzzy parts to new readers. But if you like it, and want to ask questions, don't hesitate to pm or review._**

**_We pick up right where chapter 12 of 'The long knight' has stopped, so I advise you read it first. cheers !_**

Kristan's throat constricted. He couldn't utter those little words couldn't name the feelings he harboured for Frances. Not yet, not now, not after throwing a fit of jealousy and grasping her wrist in a vice like grip. What would she think of him, his little fairy? That he was as unstable as his past self? Hazel eyes, slightly hooded by exhaustion, still watched him carefully. As if she expected him to blow a fuse in the corridor at midnight. The former scout straightened, his control sipping back slowly. He would show her how different he was from Tristan, how levelled headed and sociable he had become. That she needn't fear his outburst anymore. And if it took an apology for his angry questioning, then he would do so. After all, she owed him no explanation.

The ringtone of a phone saved him from finding the right words, the noise out of place in the quiet night. Didn't she put her phone to sleep at night? Startled, he watched Frances as she fumbled frantically, picking her phone up and answering curtly. The tension in her shoulder matched the worry in her voice.

— "Hey Jack! Got any idea what's the time right now?"

A flow of English answered her, and she sighed, eyeing him warily.

— "What, now? Are you serious?"

Another flurry of words, coloured at that, passed her interlocutor's lips. The young woman protested, interjected, but none of her answers made sense to him. Kristan could see when she relented, her shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.

— "I'll be ready in fifteen. That's all right for you? Yeah, super giddy"

Frances hung up, all anger drained from her face. As she came to him, long strands falling over her shoulders, her eyes glinted with need. Arms extended, the young woman landed against his chest, crushing herself to his taut form. Her hands tied in his back, marvelling that he was so slim that she could go all around him. His muscular form was softer than she expected, and she literally melted against him with a shudder. Kristan's arms wound around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and for a moment, her exhaustion gave way a strong sense of belonging. He smelt of the sea breeze, with a smudge of his own discreet, and very manly, scent beneath.

— "I'm sorry," came her muffled voice, lost in his linen shirt. "We'll talk about it when I get back, all right?"

Worry settled in the pit of his stomach and Kristan tightened his arms around her, unwilling to let go.

— "From where?"

— "I have no idea," and this part was the truth.

Jack was adamant that she joined their little trip to a world he thought to be Camelot. Daniel had pestered General Landry to have her on the team, given her past adventures with the knights of the round table. It was funny, how the wheel went around. Now that she'd found Kristan, they took her away to hunt memories of his brothers. The Ori were trying to reach their galaxy; if they managed, the full-scale battle that should crush earth within months. Retrieving Merlin's weapon to kick their ascended butts was capital. It didn't make much sense in Frances' mind, but she hoped that in time, the puzzle would assemble. For the moment though, she was about to face the greatest wall of history. Sturdier than Hadrian's, unyielding and powerful.

— "You're not going anywhere without me, woman."

His words were final, and Frances knew that she'd hit the ramparts. Kristan had turned into battle mode Tristan; there was nothing to be done.

— "You cannot come," she told him, lifting her head to meet his eye.

The former knight sent her an unimpressed look, although the view was beautiful. His little fairy had settled her chin on his chest, and with their height difference, she fit rather well in his arms. Still, he wasn't about to let her deep hazel eyes tame him. He needed to think of a solution, fast, to prevent anyone to take her from him. And then, his devious mind remembered an item scattered in the mess of her guest room. Kristan hid his smirk with a quip.

— "I don' care. I'll attach myself to your leg if I have to."

The young woman sighed, untangling her limbs from his waist, taking a deep breath. She knew Tristan to be as stubborn as she was. Apparently, his modern self-had not worked much on the issue of pigheadedness.

— "Kristan. You cannot go against the US government."

The young man stood tall and proud; his eyes intense, his lean muscles flexing under the tunic as his fingers played with the bow.

— "I'll go against whom I please. If they don't want me, then they can't have you."

— "Kristan…"

It was a hopeless fight, and she knew it. And somewhere in the recess of her mind, a warm feeling spread at his words. Words his former self never would not have said, such was his quiet nature. But Kristan dared speaking his mind, and she welcomed it with light in her heart.

— "Don't! I care for you Frances. I have cared for you for a long time, as a spirit for fifteen hundred years, as a man today, and I think I even cared for you back then. That is, I would have, if Tristan had been in capacity to love."

His statement shocked her as she sent him a startled glare.

— "He was," came her stern reply.

— "I beg your pardon?"

— "Tristan could love"

The fierce expression of her face dared him to challenge her words. Kristan backed away, trying to reconcile the feelings he'd experienced while dreaming of his past self with his personality. Something in Tristan had felt so wrong, his lust for blood, the detachment with which he killed, methodically, without flinching.

— "Tristan was… I was twisted, and broken. I doubt his outbursts could ever be called love."

— "Yet, it was. Love for his brothers, love for Arthur … and for me, a little. This is the weakness that led him to his death"

Kristan's voice rose as he recalled memories he'd rather kept buried.

— "You defend him, even after he left those bruises on your throat?"

Frances's eyes widened slightly. Of all the shared moments that chose to resurface, this was not the most glorious one. Kristan took a step closer, eyes darkening, as if, for a moment, he had called forth the fury of the scout. His voice, usually so smooth, shook from the strain as he recalled his earlier dream.

— "I remember holding you to this tree trunk, mere second away from crushing your windpipe. It saddens me…"

— "Kristan"

Frances's hand shot up to reach him, but he swatted it away.

— "No! It sickens me… Had the hawk not showed up, you might be dead. I was … eager, for God's sake! How can you defend him?"

The man took a step back, panting. Horror marred his features, horror at the horrible feeling of his hands on her windpipe, his dagger at her throat. Yet, Frances didn't run away from him, meeting his gaze without disgust, without fear. Her voice was quiet, full of fondness for the man he'd been. Once more, he could only marvel at her ability to love.

— "I defend your soul, Kristan. You were a warrior, who'd lived many hardships. You couldn't trust anyone lest it endangered your friends. The stakes were so high. I do not blame Tristan for his actions. Never have, never will"

Stupid, stupid woman! Putting herself in harm's way in her desire to see the best in people! A flare of anger overwhelmed him, the feeling washing from his core, pulled back for centuries of irritation.

— "How can you accept such a thing? What I did to you? What I wanted to …? How could we become … friends?"

Frances grabbed his hand tightly, sensing his distress. Long fingers clasped her own, the callouses of his hands so similar to Tristan's that it made her breath short. If Kristan started to remember his past, he would probably live through traumatic events with the sensibility of a 21st century man. This could only bring him harm, and she was the only one who could help him out of this.

— "Times were different from now. Different education, different worlds, different concept of death and value of life."

— "But…"

— "No buts. Hear me out please"

Kristan nodded his assent, stormy eyes set on her face, heart thundering in his chest. Frances nibbled on her lips, a habit he'd noticed she had when nervous, and she let go of his hand to ponder her thoughts.

— "You cannot understand until you've lived in this place, Kristan. We, modern people, think we can project ourselves into the past and imagine what it was like. But nothing prepares a human being for this gap of conscience. Children withered, starving or beaten into shape by education. Women succumbed to mistreatment, childbirth and heavy-handed husbands or fathers. Men died from sickness and violence. Animals … animals were not even taken into consideration if not for food or companionship. Tristan was one of a few who could find a wounded Hawk, and nurse her back to health. What does it say of the man, uh?"

Silence stretched for a while, Kristan's fingers nibbling with the shaft of his bow as he turned her words around in his head. So when the doorbell rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Before Frances could spring down the stairs, he sent her a serious look.

— "Let them know I will come. I ask nothing back, you are not alone anymore. Where you go, I follow."

Sadness and pride alike washed over the young woman as she drank his sight. Kristan stood, tall and proud in the dim light of her corridor like the warrior of old as he professed his loyalty to her cause, his promise to be by her side. Would she let him, did she even have a choice? He cut such an impressive figure, his jaw set, his intentions loud and clear … so overwhelming that she felt like melting into his embrace again. How comfortable his arms were when so much weighted on her shoulders. Crushed against him, she felt so safe, so unconditionally accepted, as if nothing could reach her. Safe. Loved. Loved?

But there was no time to linger on this as the doorbell rang again, reminding her of the task at hand. Frances sprang down the stairs, cringing all the way from the noise that echoed in the night. Yanking the door open, she found a familiar figure in the silent street. The young woman suddenly deflated, all the tension, the hurt, and the uncertainty drained from her body as she faced the man who had become her closest friend. The man to whom she could tell anything, especially now he knew about the Keeper of Time.

— "Daniel," she whispered in relief.

Then she sprang forward and hugged the man fiercely. Blue eyes widened slightly as the archaeologist's strong arms embraced the young woman – a reflex. Although he was rather used to her hugs – their relationship had always been quite physical, bringing comfort by touches where the others kept their distance – such heartfelt welcome was usually reserved for long absences, or one his many deaths – a bad habit. After all, they had talked the week before. But the SGC needed her and her memories of the fifth century more than ever. When, at last, the young woman let him go, Daniel adjusted his glasses.

— "Er. Sorry for barging in at this time, but…"

The young woman shushed him.

— "Not a word," she whispered as she motioned for him to climb the stairs.

The archaeologist lifted an eyebrow, but knew better than to question her. When he passed the threshold of her flat, though, he understood. There was the knight, the ghost who had protected Frances on every past mission, in the flesh. The archaeologist had only a vague recollection of what he looked like as a spirit, courtesy of his ascended time. And to say that his form was impressive was an understatement. Even without the unruly mop of hair and tattoos, his high cheekbones and chiselled features complimented his steely gaze and coiled silhouette nicely. A knight of the round table, wow! A smile graced Daniel's lips, realising that at last, he would get to meet one of the famed figures that had populated is daydreams for years. This was, altogether, incredible.

Absorbed by his joy, Daniel did not get a second to react to the knight's swift move as he grabbed Frances' wrist. The sharp click of metal echoed in the corridor, restraining the young woman's arm with a handcuff. She whirled around with a choking sound, eyes wide in disbelief, lifting her wrist like a testimony.

— "Kristan ‼ What the hell ‼!"

Kristan, a new name for an old soul. Only one letter changed, but the whole meaning was askew. From the sadness of Tristan he became a Christian man, mused Daniel as his mind roamed the extend of his etymological knowledge. The former knight sent Frances a very serious look, his smooth voice too calm for a man who'd just handcuffed such a dangerous lady.

— "As I told you, little fairy. They want you, I'm coming."

A sudden, irrepressible laugh bubbled in Daniel's chest, and before long, he was wiping tears from his eyes. Either the man was crazy, either he came directly from the fifth century and knew his worth. Which was the case. And the nickname. Little fairy, how suited! Frances' glare sobered him up, though, for she wore her 'no nonsense' look a little too intensely. The one that happened before an explosion.

— "Thank you for your support, Daniel," she deadpanned.

The archaeologist lifted his hands in surrender, taking a careful step back to avoid any hits.

— "Hey, you laughed as well when Vala cuffed me with the Korma'k."[1]

— "I didn't…. I … argh!"

Frances lifted her hand in the air, pissed beyond measure, only for the shackle to bite into her skin. Frances cursed loudly in French. The former knight's expression faltered as he offered to have a look, but she waved him away angrily. Her accusing glare should have made her companion cower; Daniel hated it when she unleashed her wrath upon him – which almost never happened. The knight, though, stood stoically, waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to punch him or let it go. The archaeologist's blue eyes were glued on his peculiar face, evaluating, remembering the high cheekbones who used to sport tribal tattoos. The similarities between this man and the knight they had fought in Avalon were striking. And his devotion to Frances's heart melting, although his methods lacked subtlety. Perhaps that man had what it took to tame her; after all, he was from the fifth century. Or he might die trying for Frances didn't cope well with people stepping on her toes.

Daniel smiled, a wide, open expression as he took a step forward, earning a startling look from the former scout.

— "Ah, Kristan I gather? It's great to see you in the flesh. "

A firm handshake was shared – left-handed because of the manacles – Kristan's grey eyes assessing his blue ones. Damn, that was the hell of a gaze; his presence was so intense that Daniel nearly shivered. How much did those eyes see exactly? Knight of the round table one day… At last, the man spoke, his voice smooth and controlled.

— "Nice to meet you. I don't think we've met."

Daniel wondered how to answer his question. He couldn't possibly tell the man he'd met him in ascended form now, could he? Or that time was meaningless up there. Tip toeing around the subject, he chose instead to tell the truth.

— "I've heard about you, a lot. Unfortunately, from other sources than Frances"

The young woman was fidgeting on the side, her armour spread on the table with her sword, left hand enclosed in her metal binding. The sight was rather amusing with her sour expression, and Daniel pursed his lips. Although he had forgiven her for keeping her status as Keeper of Time a secret, the jab stirred her guilt. Sending him a square look, she lifted her right hand in the air.

— "All right, so. Kristan, meet Daniel Jackson, archaeologist extraordinaire. Now this is sorted out, Kristan, here, wants to come with me"

Sharp, and to the point. Damn she was tense! The archaeologist refrained a chuckle as he pointed to their shackled hands.

— "Yes, it seems quite obvious given the … uh."

Frances snorted, her ill humour pouring out like a waterfall over a dam. She couldn't cross her arms like she was wont to do when pissed, but she certainly was ignoring her companion.

— "Daniel. Don't. Please don't"

The archaeologist relented.

— "Good, good. I'll let Jack know, he'll throw a tantrum but I have a few arguments up my sleeve."

The young lady's eyes budged out of her head.

— "Wait. Daniel, wait. Are you saying, yes?"

— "Of course. The man has protected you for fifteen hundred years, he's quite entitled to be by your side. And we might need his memories," he continued. "Do you have some of your past life?"

Kristan met his gaze without flinching, seemingly unfazed that his reincarnation – and his role as protector to Frances – would be common knowledge. In the inside though, turmoil was brewing. But the former scout knew better than to expose his surprise; answers could come from Frances' friend, willingly or not.

— "Some, yes"

Daniel nodded in appreciation. For a man thrown into the unknown and whose deepest secrets were exposed so blatantly, Kristan was incredibly sturdy. Daniel couldn't help but be impressed. Maybe he could help the lad – the man, he was only a few years his senior – work with his memory. Perhaps the mechanism would be similar to when he'd lost his after his first ascension?

— "It's normal. Been there, done that, you know."

— "Erm. OK"

Very sturdy. The mean had a heart of steel. He'd need it; the situation was dire with the Ori, and Frances really was a handful. If the knight loved her as much as he thought – which he probably did if he felt confident enough to handcuff her! – the poor guy was in for a difficult moment. And he'd have to process the reality of aliens, ascended beings, spaceships and Stargate in less than an hour's time. Turning to Frances, Daniel dug out his phone.

— "I'll give a call, all right? In the meantime, maybe you can fill him in about the situation?"

— "But the papers?"

To say that Frances was startled by Daniel's acceptance was an understatement. Even if the archaeologist never was one for protocol, he still respected the non-disclosure agreement. But it worked in her favour; she hated lying to Kristan, so it sat quite fine for her. She only hoped that the former scout could take it all in stride. Given his reaction to the dark elves, she wasn't as worried as she should be. Daniel strode to the guest room, sending her a pointed look.

— "Papers will follow. You trust him?"

Frances nodded, her heart melting at the question. Yes, she was pissed at Kristan for pulling such a public and humiliating stunt, but it didn't change her blind trust in the man. Her confident look called a smile to Daniel's lips.

— "If not my wrist… With my life"

— "Then no secrets, right? With luck, you will even be able to use the time to sort THIS is out…", he added, his chin pointing to their cuffed hands.

The door closed, leaving behind two very baffled people. Frances lifted her hand, dragging Kristan to the sofa in the process. As she sat, glaring daggers at him, the knight almost flinched. Almost. Damn, she looked pissed.

— "So…", she started, her sweet tone laced with ire. "Handcuffs? You really had to do this?"

It was a strange sensation, this link between their hands materialised in metal that forced them to walk and move in synchronisation. Kristan sighed; he had only one chance to make this right, and hoped he wouldn't blow it. Too bad he sucked with words. Gathering his courage, the knight leant forward. Starting with an apology might be the best way to quell her anger; something Tristan never would have done. But Kristan was above this now, above the pride of a fifth century man. Honesty was the only way to go forward.

— "I am sorry, Frances. You are going to put your life on the line again. I couldn't let you go"

— "And you believed that putting me in shackles was the solution?"

Her voice, so deathly quiet, worried him; it felt like the calm before the storm.

— "Where is the key?" she asked, jaw tightening.

Kristan's lips pursed.

— "I … won't tell you until they accept my presence."

Her eyes turned so cold it would have frozen Svalbard over in the heart of winter.

— "Where is the damn key, Kristan!"

— "I am not telling you."

Frances stood suddenly, her control slipping away. Kristan lifted his right hand immediately to avoid the metal to dig into her wrist once more. He was already too sheepish for the wound it had inflicted. His arm went back and forth with her pacing and the former scout blessed his long limbs.

— "You are infuriating, you know that? Even Tristan never put his threats to execution, not with me! But you … you … couldn't trust me, couldn't you! You had to force this upon me, to stay in control, right?"

The blow took his breath away, a dull ache forming in his chest. Control. This is what she thought … and damn, wasn't she wrong? Kristan's mind was reeling; from Frances' comment first, and the multiple revelations that had occurred in less than five minutes. Most of all, though, he was appalled that she would interpret his actions as lack of trust.

— "I trust you, Frances, do not mistake my actions. But I don't know those people, and they put you in danger last week. Don't you see that it's them that I don't trust,"

Frances paused, her muscles coiled, like a cat who has spotted a mouse and awaits the right moment to attack? How dangerous she felt right now, a fairy bound to defend no matter the cost. Her head cocked aside, she bore holes into his soul, asking for more. Kristan was all too happy to oblige; the woman was stubborn, but not unreasonable. Her silence was a chance, an olive branch extended for him to take.

— "Please. I don't want you to run away once more, to jump into the fray without anyone watching your back."

She sent him a harsh glare, setting him on edge. Had they fought like this in the past, Tristan and the Keeper of Time?

— "You know nothing of it, Kristan. Daniel, Jack, Sam and Teal'c, we are a team. I always have someone watching my back. Those people are my friends. You assume too much, knowing too little."

The accusation made his veins boil and he jumped to his feet, towering over her. His voice was barely above a murmur, yet the harshness of his tone wasn't missed.

— "I watched you flee in the backcountry to be willingly slaughtered. Had I not been there, you'd be a corpse now!"

His voice cut like a knife into butter, her face blanching at the mention of her body resting, lifeless, under the trees of High-Languedoc. But Kristan wasn't done yet, his tone barely rising. Yet, it was enough to convey his concerns, and the dangerous anger boiling through his veins.

— "Last week, you came back with so many bruises that your skin is black and blue… What was I supposed to think?"

For a long time, Frances didn't respond, her shimmering hazel searching his face. Until her shoulders slumped in defeat. Her voice was barely a murmur when she eventually said.

— "Next time, you only need to ask."

Kristan swallowed the lump in his throat; he had obviously not been honest enough. His hand lifted on its own accord, fingers grazing her cheek in a makeshift apology. Frances froze, hazel eyes lifting to his in a questioning glance.

— "I did. You refused. I used the only solution I could find."

At last, she landed heavily on the sofa and Kristan regained his seat beside her, mindful not to tug on the chain that bound them together. The little silence was only interrupted by Daniel's voice coming from the guest room, a flow of heated words as he probably tried to convince the general. Frances cocked her head aside, trying to discern the content of their talk and assess the progress. Try as she might, she couldn't understand Daniel's rapid and muffled English through the door. He always talked so fast her mind couldn't decipher half of it.

— "Well," she sighed. "I'm surprised at Daniel's acceptance. If he supports you, the rest should roll."

— "Does he hold that much power in that military organisation? Is he that high in the chain of command?"

Once more, the right questions. Frances would never get used to his way of finding sensitive information in the blink of an eye.

— "He's … nowhere in the chain of command. But you have no idea how powerful his opinion is. He and Jack… They can make anything happen when they agree."

— "And when they disagree?"

Frances's eyes twinkled slightly, replaying in her mind the countless arguments her friends had locked in. How many times had Daniel swayed Jack's mind?

— "Daniel convinces him," she answered confidently.

Kristan's eyebrows rose slightly, and the young woman could only marvel at the expressiveness of his face. The phone call was still in full swing, so she decided to tackle the beast.

— "Anyway, you wanted answers… Are you absolutely sure you want a part in this?"

Kristan nodded, his feature set, but eyes betraying his confusion.

— "If it means I get to guard your back, then yes."

Frances pursed her lips. Kristan was about to embark on a dangerous adventure by her side, one that could very well be their end. A strange wave of nostalgia washed through her as she recalled the long hours she'd had with Tristan before the battle of Badon Hill. He, too, had stayed for her sake. And died because of it. Once more, there was no convincing this man to back down, and it terrified her. Despite the shackling, her affection for him ran much deeper than she thought. Now that she had found him again, Frances didn't know how she could survive another death. Anger slipped from her body like his blood on the battlefield until there was nothing left but worry and affection. Throat constricted, she could only contemplate how the light emphasised his high cheekbone while his eyes got lost in thoughts.

— "But before you start, how did Daniel got here so fast?" he suddenly asked.

There was the scout! The man who could put two and two together by wondering about geographical position.

— "Part of the answers. I guess the Daedalus is close by. I'll fill you in"

— "Deadalus?"

Frances patted his hand gently.

— "In time, honey"

The nickname escaped her lips before she could backtrack, and she kept her eyes set on anything but his as her face grew hot. Honey. The colour of his hair, the sweetness of his gaze. It was so cheesy … how shameful! Especially since a part of her was still mad at him! Fortunately, a flash of white light ranked her slip of the tongue at the bottom of the priority list. Kristan jumped from the sofa, taking a defensive stance as Jack O'Neill, in full uniform, appeared into her living room, beamed through Asgard technology.

* * *

[1] Vala, a woman who wanted to get the treasure of Avalon, tricked Daniel with bracelets that attached them permanently. An interesting lady altogether.


	2. Chapter 2 - Living room council crisis

**_Hey Koba, you're a hard-core stargate fan! It's nice, you will have fun in the next chapters I think. And you will be able to tell me if the people are quite in character. I haven't written a lot on stargate yet. Once more, I'm so happy with all your thoughts. Think Kristan would lose a staring contest with Teal'c? : p I have incorporated one of your ideas in my text 3 chapters from now, you'll see. Don't hesitate to ask for things, it could be funny. (By the way, Francis is a male name, while Frances is female. And Spanish… Don't get me started on etymology uh uh)_**

**_I'm surprised nobody scoffed at the 'handcuffing' trick. It is a little far-fetched, even for Tristan eheh. His own little domination, but more playful than in the fifth century._**

General O'Neill, full uniform on his back, short sandy hair neatly combed, outstretched his hands in a gesture of exasperation.

— "For crying out loud Daniel!" he exclaimed.

Then his brown eyes widened when he realised that he didn't know the man facing him. 'Crap' was his mental slap before he took in the young woman chained to the stranger. Frances' smile widened as she jumped to her feet.

— "Hey Jack"

She gave the older man a one-armed hug and he grazed her bruised cheek affectionately, sparing a glance to Kristan.

— "Hey kiddo"

Then he turned his playful gaze to their bound hands.

— "You know, if your knight really didn't want to come, you didn't have to go to such lengths."

— "Jack…"

Frances's warning fell on deaf ears; O'Neill was having way too much fun. The general turned to the knight, pointing at their entwined hands.

— "You know, in ancient Scottish cultures, there's this tradition of hand-fasting … but not with Interpol handcuffs. Is that your idea of an upgrade, young man?"

— "Jack!"

This time, Frances hit his shoulder with enough force for him to wince. Of yeah, she was still pissed at her knight, gritting her teeth as she scolded him.

— "You didn't come up with this one on your own, did you?"

The general smirked.

— "Nah, Daniel gave me a crash course. Scottish traditions, handfasting, so beautiful…"

Frances rolled her eyes, her ire still alive but the ghost of a smile upon her lips. When those two started…

— "Next joke, I'll blow a fuse right here, right now."

O'Neill lifted his hands in surrender, his pristine uniform following his movements.

— "All right, all right. Just stop hitting me, right? I'm an old man now."

The young woman scoffed, a hint of playfulness dancing in her irises.

— "As if … and before you ask, I have my sources."

She doubted Samantha Carter considered her husband an old man… Although this relationship – between two former teammates – was kept secret, the SG1 team knew of it; the intensity of their feelings had been as plain as day.

— "Anyway. You know, until you showed up, nothing compromising had been said. Daniel even had the presence of mind to use the doorbell and pass his phone call in the guest room. But your little demonstration there… I can only raise some questions,"

Taking his cue, Kristan offered his hand – the left one – to the slightly smaller man for a handshake. It took O'Neill a second to adjust, and grip the other man's fingers tightly. The knight didn't wince, boring his grey eyes into the general's without flinching.

— "And I am relentless in questioning, sir. Nice to meet you"

O'Neill stared at the former knight, taking in his stance, his gaze and everything that body language could properly provide within a second. Being a "Black Ops" for years could do that to you; evaluate one's intention in the blink of an eye. His analysis done, the general relaxed slightly, a smile creeping up his face.

— "Likewise. Even if I might have loved a better setting. A birthday, an engagement party, anything a little more mundane"

Then he bent closer to Kristan, brown eyes twinkling in mischief.

— "I'd keep the cuffs in the bedroom if I were you."

Jack O'Neill winked, and Kristan nearly choked at his humour. American, caustic, if a little insidious. Albeit engagement party might be a bit far-fetched for now, he would not be the one complaining. Beside him, Frances stood, straight faced. She knew what Jack was doing; he always claimed that people with no humour were evil. Like the Aschen, who had tried to ensnare earth, and his wife Samantha with technology and not a smile on their faces. Kristan's lack of visible reaction – even if she could feel him bristle internally – called another round of teasing.

— "So. Did you swallow the key?"

Kristan offered him Tristan's trade smirk, the one his enemies usually saw before they died. Coiled lips retracted over sharp canines; the perfect impersonation of a predator. O'Neill had to admit that it looked slightly disturbing, and noted that the man was dangerous. Frances butted in before things turned sour, tugging on the general's arm.

— "Please. Like you love mundane stuff."

— "A barbecue?" he suggested, bending towards the young woman with a playful look.

As she brushed his arm, Kristan couldn't help but notice how relaxed Frances was in the general's presence. If he had his guess, he'd gather they had fought together. So, there was the top of the chain of command; no wonder his little fairy seemed confident. He had never met a general, but this one was rather relaxed. An oddity.

— "That's more like it," answered Frances to the older man.

— "Fishing?"

Frances grinned.

— "Don't push it"

The clang of a door opened in haste called their attention to the corridor.

— "Jack! Damn it! You couldn't wait half a sec … ond."

Kristan remained impassive, but he noted that the archeologist and the general were on first name basis. Daniel skidded to a stop and, seeing the situation, sighed.

— "Forget it. I see you have met."

O'Neill sent Kristan a playful look.

— "Yeah, we're breast buddies already."

Frances hiccupped, a disturbing image popping in her mind. Then, she motioned for the men to sit at the table.

— "Jack, papers. Kristan, I'll make some tea. And no Daniel, the coffee machine is still in a cardbox."

— "You're kidding," whined the archaeologist. "You've been here six months already!"

Frances send Daniel a stern look; she hated coffee and only took the machine out when he came, or her family visited.

— "Whatever. I'm not rummaging through them at one in the morning. You should have come more often."

— "I'm curious about how you intent to…" Daniel started.

His comment was brushed off as Frances continued her rant.

— "You three get talking. Kristan already knows about the Keeper of Time; so do you, so that's one less stuff to explain. And be careful, my neighbour has two young daughters, don't go waking them up,"

Kristan watched as Frances's orders were heeded; it reminded him so strongly of Vanora at the tavern that his lips quirked up. His lady rarely displayed her authority, but the two men at the table knew not to mess with her, even the four-star general in full regalia. Perhaps it was just out of respect; they all seemed to be quite comfortable with each other. Another part of her life he had yet to discover.

The effect of said authority, though, was tuned down by the fact that she never reached the kitchen because of her attachment … to him. When the cuff scratched on his skin, Frances released a loud huff.

— "This is gonna get old very fast," she grumbled.

Jack chuckled while Daniel tried to keep a straight face. It was funny, how permeable she was to others. Already, her sentences were slightly more relaxed than her usual formal and ancient speech, blame the general! Kristan didn't take time to think as he pulled her beside him in a move reminiscing their days in the tavern.

— "Come and sit, little fairy."

Frances landed beside him without a second thought, amazed that old habits could resurface so quickly. For the moment, Kristan had switched to the dominant position, and it was fascinating to see the workings of his mind.

— "So, I take it you fought together?" he asked across the table.

O'Neill sent him a respectful look – because of his assertion, or the fact that he got her to sit and obey, she didn't know – while Daniel responded nonchalantly.

— "Of yeah, we even died together."

Kristan's mind was reeling already.

— "How so?"

Frances and O'Neill responded at the same time.

— "Long story"

— "Don't get him started."

The archeologist lowered himself on the chair, cleaning his glasses in a nervous move.

— "Yeah, right. Maybe next time"

Already, Daniel Jackson's comments had him wonder; was he a reincarnated man as well? He couldn't imagine, for the life of him, that Daniel had died multiple times, ascended, and taken human form again. THAT was just too far-fetched. Frances used his distraction to coax the general into getting the stuff she needed in the kitchen.

— "There's some cake left, but I am stuck beside this stubborn knight," she said sourly.

Jack's hopeful gaze turned to her, ignoring Kristan's uncomfortable expression.

— "Chocolate?"

The young lady smiled fondly.

— "Yes"

— "I'll find it. And gentlemen, let's make this short and efficient."

Frances would have smiled if not for the fact that she was glued to Kristan's side. For sure, Jack wouldn't be disappointed; the scout certainly knew how to make words count! Funny how all the loose threads of her life were coming together. She just prayed that the former knight wouldn't run away yelling bloody murder. Technically, he couldn't since their hands were tied…

— "So, crash course Stargate 101," started Daniel as Jack rummaged through the kitchen, directed by Frances' instructions.

Kristan frowned at the name. Was it an image?

— "Stargate?"

Jack had found the cake, and was settling at the table with a satisfied smirk. Then he called into a commlink, lifting his head up.

— "NDA papers, up there?"

A flash of white light, and suddenly a bundle of papers appeared before him, landing on the remains of the chocolate cake in his hands. Daniel smirked as Jack handed them to Kristan, swatting them to clean up the pieces.

— "Sign up the papers, and Daniel will fill you in with the short version."

This time, the archeologist protested.

— "But, Jack?"

— "Aha! We don't have all day"

Frances groaned at that.

— "Night, people. It's night, and I was going to my wonderful fluffy bed when you showed up!"

Daniel's suspicions arose at her comment; she'd said 'I', not 'we'. So the knight and she were not together … yet. Still, he had found them in her flat at midnight so … all hope wasn't lost. A quick, warning look to Jack was rewarded by a sparkling expression. Daniel refrained from groaning at his friend's obvious disregard for Frances' privacy – no doubt Jack would be grilling her later – and started his story.

— "Right. Short version it is then."

And thus, Kristan learnt that aliens existed, that Frances and the US government had been travelling the galaxy through wormholes, meeting all sorts of hostiles, saving the world, and that now was one of those apocalypse situations that smelt really bad. Taking it in stride without batting an eyelash, Kristan wondered if he'd ever sleep again.

Not two hours later, Frances watched earth from one the Deadalus' deck – one of earth's spaceships. It was a fascinating sigh, this blue planet wrapped in swirling clouds, lost into the endless darkness of the universe where lights pulsated like beacons, hundred million years away. Somewhere along the deck, Kristan and Daniel were deep in conversation. Well, Daniel was talking, and Kristan grunting answers as his eyes, wide open, drank the view. His posture told of his immense shock at being swept away on a spaceship, contemplating Europe from afar.

Frances would have loved to be by his side as wonder filled him, to guide him through the discovery, or only witness his awed features. But she was still pissed at him for the handcuffs. Fortunately, the Asgard beaming technology had teleported her first – courtesy of Daniel, bless his friendship – freeing her as Kristan was left with empty shackles around his wrist. 'Serves you right,' she had grumbled before going up the bridge to contemplate the blue planet while Kristan fished the key from his underwear – HIS UNDERWEAR! – with a boyish grin. Who knew the knight could be this playful?

— "It never gets old," said Jack's voice beside her.

— "No. It is magnificent. Won't prevent my bosses to give me hell for disappearing if I don't make it back by Monday."

The general lifted his eyebrow.

— "Trouble at work?"

Frances was quite used to his quips and short jabs by now. A familiar anger washed over her at the mention of her stupid bosses. Both her N+1 and N+2 – the lady director of the company – were being quite disagreeable at the moment, especially since she voiced her concerns that their work was, indeed, done very poorly because of harassment and bad organisation. But Frances was not one to back down; this company was fucked up by the very people who directed it. If they didn't want to hear it, there was naught she could do!

— "No, my boss doesn't like what I steer. I expect retaliation at some point."

She missed the look of concern Jack sent her before he snorted.

— "I'm sure your guy would be more than happy to give them a run for their money. He doesn't seem the type you want to piss"

Frances tore her gaze from earth as the Deadalus started a manoeuvre, looking utterly confused.

— "My … who?"

— "Kristan, your knight"

The young woman's eyes opened bigger than flying saucers at his assumption. She didn't know whether to be amused or wistful; her brain still struggled to process the whole mess. Still, Jack had seen Kristan for what he was: a fearsome warrior. Maybe she could grasp that line, and sort out the rest of her feelings later.

— "Yes, he's definitely not one to anger. At Hadrian's wall, children, women and Romans alike fled before him. But he's not my 'guy', as you put it".

The smile that adorned her face said it all, but she seemed oblivious to it. So Jack decided to nail it, hard, ignoring Daniel's warning to leave them be. After all, he knew the consequences of waiting – years! – to declare one's love. He and Sam had wasted so much time already, not that it could have been helped, mind you. But Frances wasn't tied up by military regulations, hence hiss less than subtle hint.

— "Not your man? Do'h, kiddo. He's willing to lay his life down for you!"

Frances frowned, her eyes leaving the glass pane to face him fully. There was something … uncertain in her gaze. Horror and sadness as well. Some kind of swirl of emotions in which she feared to drown. Jack cursed himself for not listening to Daniel. Frances was nowhere ready to heed her feelings, or recognise them. It was easy, somehow, to sit on the sideline and study people's interactions. Much less easy to be in the midst of the emotional storm. The conviction in Frances' words only confirmed it.

— "As you have done plenty of times for Teal'c or Daniel. We were friends, we were a team. Kristan saved me from being butchered from the dark elves, and from that Saxon that would have hacked me to pieces fifteen hundred years ago."

A shudder ran through her spine, and Jack could clearly discern how tight the lid she kept on that traumatic even as she continued ranting.

— "I guess he just wants to ensure I don't end up in the same situation again."

It was on the tip of his tongue, yet Jack couldn't get himself to rub it in her face. Obviously, Frances was too confused to see what stood right under her nose. Backtracking, her returned to the amazing blue planet below their feet.

— "Bah, who am I to judge?"[1]

Frances huffed in frustration, ready to retaliate that no one was entitled to mess up with her love life when Kristan appeared beside her. Once more, she could only marvel as his stealth, hoping to all Gods that he'd not heard their previous conversation, and that Jack would shut his trap now. To cover her turmoil, she addressed the former knight with a smirk.

— "You should get along just fine with O'Neill, you sometimes have this very dry sense of humour."

— "I certainly do not use handcuffs!" cried Jack indignantly, his eyes boring holes into hers.

— "I don't want to know," she retorted.

Kristan's quiet mutter didn't interrupt the silent contest between general and lady, neither willing to back down.

— "I'm never going to live this down."

Although neither turned around to meet his gaze, their voices answered him in perfect unison.

— "No, you won't!"

Then, they resumed glaring as each other before Frances eventually relented.

— "Very well, General. If you want to know, I love your sense of humour. You're the only one who ever made me laugh when I thought I was going to die."

— "Hopefully we can sample it without facing death?"

Kristan's smooth retort was met with a nervous laugh from both parties. But deep down, the three of them did not know what awaited them.

It was past four in the morning – In France – when they were beamed down into the SGC. By then, Frances was quite on her feet, and Jack only directed her to her usual quarters – beside Daniel's. Yawning, she didn't even start the next sentence when Jack told her.

— "Three doors down to the left."

Frances pointed to her right, confused.

— "This left?"

Jack laughed heartily while Kristan's lips quirked upwards. Frances could fire a gun proficiently, travel through time and wield her sword like a goddess, but she still couldn't distinguish left from right.

— "No, north. "

This time, the young woman nodded. Given her inability to know left from right at first glance, she tended to guide herself with absolute landmarks. Hence her acute knowledge of the base's maps and directions. Which, in itself, was quite a feat as Jack made no heads or tails of this place in terms of general orientation. Outside would be another story; his days as 'Black Ops' had left him quite attuned to any landmark. But the base… He only knew it by heart, period. Putting a hand on the knight's shoulder, Jack winked at the young woman as she yawned again.

— "All right. Are you staying on base, Jack?"

— "Nope"

There was a twinkle in his chocolate eyes that told her everything she needed to know; Sam probably awaited him by now. It was already 8 pm in Colorado Springs. Kristan stood poised beside them, not missing a crumb of the conversation. No doubt questions would be firing tomorrow morning.

— "Oh. Say hello to…"

Frances refrained from saying Sam's name. The relationship was still need to know in the SGC and should stay that way. Jack addressed her a gentle smile as his hand brushed on her shoulder.

— "Will do. I'll see you at 8:00 for the briefing."

— "Aye, aye, sir"

Her smirk was covered by another yawn.

— "Very stylish Frances … if you're from the 18th century. Now don't you worry, I'll take good care of him"

Frances blinked. How did he know she was worried about Kristan?

— "Have you come upon mind-reading technology?" she asked suspiciously.

— "Your eyes betray you, kiddo," he answered with a smug look.

Jack was much more subtle than he loved people to see. Yes, she was worried to leave her friend alone in this place. Despite the fact that Kristan was the reincarnation of a scout, the SGC was new, the concept of Stargate as well, and things tended to happen here. Weird things, even weirder than she'd seen in her time digging into the X-Files. She didn't want to find him consumed by a giant plant or taken hostage by alien rocks, or worse. Fidgeting on her feet, Frances only addressed the knight a meaningful look.

— "Don't wander around," she told him sternly, as worried as she was pissed.

In all truth, she didn't quite know where she stood with him. Friend, acquaintance, more? Their past relationship had been more than murky, and it cast a weird feeling about it all, as if they couldn't interact like normal people. Kristan sent her a reassuring nod, conveying that he would, indeed, be fine. A silent plea not to worry. A lengthy conversation that Jack interrupted without a second thought.

— "Come, Kristan. Let's get you settled"

As Frances watched the two men retreat along the corridor, she couldn't help but notice how Jack's American accent pronounced the Danish name. It was very different from the way it passed her own lips. She'd have to ask the knight if she was not butchering it.

* * *

[1] As per Mads Mikkelsen brilliant line in Doctor Strange (as Kaecillius).


	3. Chapter 3 - Stargate Command

**_Hey. I didn't get much feedback on last chapters, but I'm obstinate. For my regular, can you tell me if I should maybe place the stargate chapters into a separate fiction and leave 'The lone knight' into the King Arthur section ? I wonder._**

**_Anyway. We're about halfway through, I think, for this fiction._**

**_There, we take the big dive into Stargate's world. Hope you enjoy. We are in season 9, episode 20. The original stargate team of 4 has lost General O'Neill who considers himself too old for this shit, and is now a liaison with Washginton as Head of Homeworld security. The Colonel Mitchell is a younger man who has been asked to lead SG1, and has taken over successfully. Frances, though, never served under his command except in the Avalon episode (9x01) that will be mentioned here. Unfortunately, I haven't written this part yet in my 'Frances in the stars' story._**

**_Koba, I'm rather sad I can't answer you directly so you always have to wait for the next chapter. Thanks for all your comments (and the correct sentence, ahem, a word disappeared). You're right, I quite wonder what Jack told Kristan before he got him settled. And yes, both have overreacted. Let's hope their brain is fully functional in the morning. And yes, a staring contest between Teal'c and Kristan wouldn't be the same between Teal'c and Tristan. Definitely! I'm glad you enjoyed it. There comes Sam, at the end of this chapter. Such an awesome lady, I couldn't leave her behind._**

At five o'clock the next morning – 1 pm in France – Kristan had been awake for more than an hour, had a shower, stretched a little and fully garbed himself with the BDUs. His linen shirt was, of course, not enough to keep the chill away. He had no idea what the weather was on the surface, but down there, it definitely wasn't close to the south of Frances inferno he couldn't get used to. In truth, it was a rather welcome reprieve. It would have been even nicer if he knew where he was, and what awaited him once he stepped through that Stargate they'd talked about. Fortunately, Kristan was not one to linger on what ifs. Frances' reluctance, however, could only mean one thing. Danger. She was oddly protective of him, perhaps a side effect of watching him die. It was funny, to see his little fairy fussing over him.

Kristan couldn't help but note that not a word had been spoken about her betrothed; neither with Daniel nor with Jack O'Neill. Now that he had messed up, being bossy and all with his handcuff stunt, he wondered if she would ever answer his questions about the elf. It was as if, altogether, her betrothed had ceased to exist in her eyes, and those of her friends. For Kristan wasn't blind. The archeologist and the general were close friends to the lady; of this, he had no doubts. There was so much he didn't know, so much to learn. This place, albeit military neutral, seemed loaded with memories.

His room was empty, the standard army accommodation. Sheets, pillow, blankets, towels and soap. After half an hour debating whether to wake Frances up or go and wander by himself – which she warned him against – he was rewarded by a soft knock. Kristan strode to the door, reluctant to call out given the early hour. Frances stood shyly in the corridor, taking in his face with keen eyes.

— "Did I wake you?"

— "No," came his quiet voice.

A genuine smile lit up her face, coaxing Kristan into pushing away any thoughts of her fiancé. He'd find out soon enough, and in the meantime, would appreciate the company. She seemed in a better mood than the prior day; did it mean he was forgiven?

— "Good. Hungry?"

The former scout nodded, and Frances linked her arm through his – a habit she probably had with her friends – to lead him away in the maze of corridors. Kristan didn't mind, it seemed oddly comforting to have her close in this new, and totally unknown environment. And to know she'd relaxed enough around him to allow this small, friendly contact.

— "It's definitely not croissant or Danish rolls, but I don't have a car to drive down to town so we'll have to make do."

— "Drive down?"

— "Yes. We're on Cheyenne Mountain, at the very top."

Kristan nodded again. Daniel Jackson had mentioned Colorado Springs, not far away from Denver. After twists, turns and a ride in the elevator, they eventually hit the mess. Kristan was surprised to see that breakfast was already rolling, those people worked at insane hours! They took their time, eating in quiet conversation, Frances' face grimacing as she found sweet and sour tastes she wasn't very fond of. Being French was a curse sometimes, as the Danish had more tolerance for approximative food. Silence sometimes stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Each lost in their thoughts, undisturbed by the presence of the other. It was rather off-putting, as if Kristan could find the restful way to be alone … with her. No need to maintain conversation or small talk, Frances was quite at ease with silence. A nice reprieve from the people he usually spent time with who always tried to coax him into their meaningless ramblings.

At last, Frances took a last gulp of her so-called hot chocolate – hot chocolate, who knew the Keeper of Time loved children's drink?

— "I haven't filled you in about the latest mission to Avalon. Since you didn't read the report, I should probably give you the heads up"

Kristan slightly reclined in his seat, grey eyes once more set on her. Frances looked tired, the circle under her eyes more pronounced than when they first met, the bruise on her cheek looking glum. After this mission, he would make sure she caught up with much needed sleep. He could still handcuff her to her bed after all; he had the key! And for the wounds, there was nothing he could do aside barring her door and standing watch. For now, there were urgent matters to settle.

— "All right. I'm all ears"

Seeing that she had his full and undivided attention, Frances started her story.

— "OK. So last year, after Vala tricked Daniel into wearing the stupid bracelets he told you about… Don't you dare laugh, Kristan!

The knight schooled his features instantly, yet the twinkle remained in his grey eyes. Frances sent him a half-hearted glare, warning him that she was not oblivious to his teasing, choosing to indulge him instead. His handcuffing stunt was already half-forgiven.

— "Anyway. Daniel found out that Merlin had a secret cavern under the hills of Glastonbury."

And so Frances endeavoured to tell Kristan about the Ancient technology that concealed the cave, explaining why it had never been found by archeologists. And how the old sorcerer, leader of the Woads, had left clues and riddles in order to protect his famed treasure, some of them apparently addressed to her. She still wondered how Merlin had figured out that she knew the number PI to over the 10th number after coma – math classes had been so boring in fifth grade – this one, she had yet to discover. The last trial, though, had been the appearance of a holographic Tristan, ready to strike. And strike he did!

Kristan's faint eyebrows climbed to his hairline, disappearing under the blondish strands in surprise.

— "Are you serious? Of all of Arthur's knights, he chose to materialise me?"

Frances nodded gravely, still wondering about the reasons that had pushed Merlin to pick this particular knight to guard his hidden lair. And even if it made a lot of sense, for Tristan was unmatched in battle, she couldn't help but read a message from the old meddler to the Keeper of Time.

— "Technically a good choice, you were fierce and gave us some trouble."

— "Us?"

One little word, a lifetime of explanations! Frances bit the inside of her cheeks, organising her thoughts to summarise the latest mission, and the status of SG1 without getting sidetracked – Daniel's specialty. A quick glance at Kristan made her pause; the look in his eyes was almost tender, and she wondered what thoughts lingered in his head to give him this wistful look. He was so handsome when his grey eyes brightened, loose strands falling over them, their swaying ends emphasising the cut of his cheeks and his pointed chin. Frances swallowed; distraction could lead to no good and she kicked herself to resume her story.

— "Teal'c shot his P-90, the bullets passed right through the holographic Tristan. By then, it had landed a few hits on Mitchell because he was the one who had picked up the sword from the stone."

— "How did he survive?" came his smooth reply.

How pretentious this might have sounded, coming from anyone else but Kristan. But Frances could only surrender to the truth; if Mitchell had indeed faced Tristan, he would have been dead in seconds. Fortunately, the hologram's hits had hurt – like electricity shot – but not cut the deep crimson line it would have in the fifth century. A trick from Merlin.

— "The blows send some sort of jolt through his body, but didn't create physical wounds. So after a few shocks, Mitchell started to fight back."

— "Is the Colonel a fencer?"

Frances shook her head. The mess was rather deserted, but once in a while, the people who got in sent her stares that made her uncomfortable. The young woman ignored the newcomers as she answered.

— "Nope, but he surprised me with his technique. I helped him when I realised that my elvish blade could clash with your Dao despite you being a hologram"

Bless Glorfindel a hundred times over for his magical sword!

— "When do I meet Colonel Mitchell?"

Respect oozed from his voice, and Frances wouldn't help but remember the uneven fight the Colonel and she had partaken against Tristan.

— "At the briefing, I guess. He is the new SG1 leader now. A good one, from what I heard."

— "You've never served under him?"

This time, Frances sighed, crossing her arms in a defensive gesture.

— "No. Only this once, in Avalon. Then they came upon middle earth and discovered I was the Keeper of time and it went a bit south. He doesn't like me, you know. He's known me for half a mission and then … witnessed my betrayal, and Daniel was angry, and so was Sam so…"

Once more, the young woman wondered how the Colonel would welcome their barging into the new SG1. There was no lost love between her and Mitchell at the moment, and she couldn't help but feel guilty about it. This whole mess, SG1 finding Melenwë in Gondor, her arguing with Daniel as he realised the extend of her omissions; it left a sour taste in her mouth.

— "How did you beat the hologram me?"

— "Mitchell did. I couldn't… I never managed to give the death blow."

She remembered Daniel's cries as he tore his hair off, yelling at her that it was only a hologram. He could not imagine that this one was the embodiment of a man she'd loved, and lost on the battlefield. That for the first time in five years, she could see Tristan fighting with such similarities to the warrior she knew that he felt alive. No, she never wanted the knight to disappear, even if he was just an illusion. The most vivid image of a beloved friend; just salt in the wound. And Daniel's eyes, following her every move, wondering why she seemed to struggle to complete such an easy task when she showed such skill with the blade. Seeing her wield a sword had raised the archeologists' suspicions at the time. There was no fencing training in the SGC. Now he knew.

— "Anyway… I have cursed Merlin to hell and back for picking you."

Kristan's lips slightly quirked at the expression, but doubt still lingered on his mind.

— "I can imagine. But I barely knew the old sorcerer, how did he do it?"

— "I don't know. I don't remember Tristan meeting Merlin either. It felt like a message."

A fond look crossed her features as she remembered the day she had introduced the knight to classical music.

— "A message?"

— "To me. And I don't understand it"

A group of young airmen, half-awake, settled on a table nearby with barely concealed interest. A girl even saluted Frances, something akin to awe painted on her features. Kristan slightly scooted his chair closer to whisper into her ear.

— "You seem quite famous, little fairy."

Her eyes smiled without her mouth moving an inch to match it, face frozen from his proximity. His breath on her cheek, the sound of his voice, smooth like silk upon her skin. It felt surreal, like an addiction, pleasure and danger at the same time.

— "Isn't that crazy, uh? People saluting me because of my acquaintance with SG1, while they have a former knight of the round table sitting right beside me…"

Her words struck a chord, and Kristan reclined in his seat to mull over her words. He was, somehow, one of the greatest legends of this world. This thought was unsettling. Luckily, he wasn't one of the most renown ones, having died so early into the lore. The story of Tristan and Isolde, though, still sent shivers down his spine. He would need time to adjust. The sound of Frances' chair scrapping the floor called him back to reality.

— "Come now, we'll take a tour around the base, and hopefully I can fill you in on the tales of SG1. You'll understand why people are fan of the team. I'm just a symbol really, as I wasn't with them most of the time"

Kristan collected his tray with a snort. Right. Once more, Frances was oblivious to the effect she had on people … and on him. The complex was stirring, the hour growing a little more decent as Frances started to drag him around the place. Infirmary, locker rooms, jail cells, guest quarters, gym room. All of them elicited a story from the young fiery hanging once more at his arm. Most of them were memories, others only recounting what Daniel, Jack or Sam had told her about or the reports she'd read. So many weird things had happened in this complex. Time – when not being sucked into a black hole – and normalcy were more than relative, and Kristan understood why Frances had faced the dark elves with such efficiency. When piling up her experience at the SGC and her time travels, the woman was quite ready to take anything; soulless killer elves were far from being exotic when you worked here. As they walked through a corridor on their way back to the infirmary, Frances tensed immediately, her grip tighter on his arm.

At once, Kristan was on edge, cursing himself for leaving his weapons behind. He felt strangely naked without a sword or a dagger.

— "What is it?"

Frances paused momently, realising that she'd given the wrong information. Exhaling softly, she resumed walking, trying to keep her unease at bay. She knew his eyes were set on her face, and refused to meet them as she strode ahead. Worried, Kristan tried gentle prying.

— "What is wrong, Frances?"

Her voice quivered lightly at they passed the door where Daniel had died and ascended. It was, by far, her worst memory.

— "A story I will tell you another time."

Kristan only nodded.

— "Come, you still have to see the gate room."

Said room struck him speechless, as expected, and Frances waited beside him without a word as he took it the enormity of the device. His demeanour betrayed nothing, for he was as poised as ever. His eyes though, they spoke of wonder, excitement, and utter disbelief. Hearing about the Stargate came nowhere close to seeing it.

— "Wait until you see it working," she told him, picking up on his mood with ease.

If Kristan had not been so awestruck, he might have marvelled at her ability to read him even when he let nothing on.

— "Or go through," came an eager voice from the other side of the room.

A blond woman strode in, a grin plastered on her face, wide blue eyes twinkling in mischief. Behind her walked a giant black man, his shoulders relaxed under a black top tank.

— "It is a pleasure to see you again, Frances," came the giant's rumbling voice.

Before Frances could answer with a greeting of her own, Samantha engulfed her in a mighty hug. The air rushed out of her lungs with an 'oof', and she couldn't help but smile back. Sam seemed … radiant. And not cranky anymore about their latest fallout. Namely, the Keeper of Time's revelation. Frances relished in the strength of Sam's embrace. She had missed her ever since she was kicked out of the program.

Out of the original SG team, Samantha Carter was her stability. Level-headed, more intelligent than Einstein and balancing between heart and reason, the blond Lt Colonel had always been the pillar to this madness. Between O'Neill's rigidity – pun intended since they were now sleeping together – Daniel's eagerness to throw himself in any danger for the sake of humanity and Teal'c phlegm, Sam was, to her, the perfect balance. She wondered how that woman could stay so nice when so much pressure rested on her shoulders. At last, the blond lady released her, and shot her hand to Kristan to shake it. Frances turned to her knight.

— "Kristan. This is Lieutenant Colonel Carter, from SG1. She saved the world more times than we possibly have altogether. And that tall warrior here it Teal'c"

A slight reddening of Sam's cheeks welcomed this statement as she shook the former knight's hand. Teal'c, as usual, only bowed his head. Kristan mirrored his greeting formally, earning a look of approbation as Sam babbled.

— "Don't 'listen to Frances, she exaggerates. It's nice to meet you, Kristan."

As if on cue, the tall man answered truthfully, his grey eyes boring holes into the Lt Colonel. The silk of his voice echoed in the room.

— "Frances has always fed me incredible tales. I've learnt that all of them are true."

His statement was met by a stunned silence. Frances smirked; she wasn't the only one affected by Kristan's aura. But Sam was never one to gape and was quick to recover.

— "I believe that she also has a merry tale to recount about you, Sir Tristan."

Teal'c lifted an eyebrow, turning to the blond woman.

— "Are you referring to the tales of the round table, Samantha Carter?"

Kristan slightly frowned, taken aback by Teal'c formalism in his own team. As Samantha answered the giant that she, indeed, referred to Tristan's former position, Frances' hand brushed his to call his attention. It was incredible how the slight contact of his skin on hers sent her heart rushing, and when his grey eyes met hers, she stuttered slightly.

— "Teal'c is from another … planet. His education is much more formal, and he was raised to take over the role of first prime of an eminent and powerful man."

— "First prime?"

Frances chuckled. Trust Kristan to ask about the role rather than the mention of another 'planet'. Always figuring out the right questions.

— "Long story"

The former knight let out a slight huff.

— "Why does it feel that everything I ask will take forever to explain?"

It was Sam who answered his dejected statement, the twinkle back in her blue eyes.

— "You're not wrong. But you have all the time in the world, right?"

Frances rolled her eyes. Knowing Sam, it was a loaded statement.

The briefing went better than expected. Kristan's eyes and ears were wide open, all senses alert as he tried to gather the maximum information in the minimum amount of time. Once more a scout, nothing went past him, spoken or unspoken. At General Landry's side – the SGC commander – sat General O'Neill. Many looks passed between him and the blond woman – Samantha Carter, astrophysicist and Frances' friend. Some glances were amused, some exasperated, some mischievous. Kristan couldn't ignore them; he knew of this kind of connection. If they weren't a couple, they wanted to be one. The archeologist, Daniel, advocated for Kristan's presence with strength. All eyes were on him, respect obvious on everyone's features, in everyone's words. Except for O'Neill's retorts who could be a little callous, but his eyes always oozed warmth towards Daniel Jackson who dismissed most of his quips with a roll of his eyes. The friendly banter, even in the middle of an official briefing, didn't seem to unfaze the others. It probably was a standard occurrence.

Kristan wondered why Daniel Jackson was so adamant for his presence. Was it because of his friendship with Frances, or his awe to meet a former knight of the round table? Although non-military, the archeologist seemed hardly the type to be impressed by a mere man. Especially after everything Frances had recounted of their adventures. SG1 had dodged every bullet, every single attack thrown their way with such brio. Kristan did not doubt one instant that they would triumph against those 'Ori' fanatics. Perhaps it was the connection with Merlin; the fact that the old sorcerer had chosen him, as a hologram, to guard his Avalon lair might have swayed the opinion of Daniel about him.

Anyway, the archeologist's words about the importance of having a former knight of the round table held so much conviction that no one argued back. Not even the Colonel Mitchell, head or current SG1, who gave Frances the cold shoulder. She had warned him about it; the Colonel was still pissed about ignoring the Keeper of Time's existence. This, he could understand easily. Frances and the Colonel had not served together either, contrary to the others; Kristan could understand the colonel's reluctance to trust a woman who had lied in their face for so many years. Yet Mitchell didn't speak against her. Daniel was currently leading the meeting, reminding all of them of their last mission to Avalon, on earth, where Colonel Mitchell and Frances fought his hologram to access Merlin's 'treasure'. The very notion still sent his mind reeling. A hologram him, like the dragon guarding a cave. How crazy was this?

— "So let's agree that if another hologram knight shows up, our three swordsmen will take care of it, right?" eventually concluded Daniel Jackson.

— "Do you expect us to run into another one?" asked the Colonel, slouched over his seat.

Kristan refrained his eyebrow from rising at the sight of this posture, an image of the round table carved in his mind, knights proudly standing, cup raised in honour of the dead. Casual was something Tristan entirely ignored, and he could not fathom slouching in his seat under Arthur's keen gaze. Still, he could feel that Colonel Mitchell was dangerous in his own way. A little like General O'Neill, assuming a non-threatening posture and body language to fool the enemy. Here and there, no statement needed to be made, no proud gait to show the peasants the extend of Arthur's message, no image to uphold. How times had changed, and sometimes, Kristan felt every bit the knight of old rather than a modern man!

Daniel sighed, his hand waving in a lazy gesture. Would they meet another knight to fight?

— "Well, with Myrddin, you never know."

Suddenly, Kristan's chair rolled closer to Frances.

— "Myrddin. Is it Merlin?" he whispered his breath brushing her hear.

Frances shuddered from his proximity.

— "Yes, his ascended name."

The knight nodded as the young woman turned to Daniel.

— "Do you think it might be Tristan again?"

The archaeologist's blue eyes set on her face, his face showing intense concentration.

— "You said he was the deadliest of Arthur's knights. It would make sense if Merlin wanted to protect the weapon we are looking for."

Beside her, Frances could feel Kristan's surprised breath. He knew he had been a good swordsman, but hearing that the Keeper of Time had dubbed him the most skilled one… This was humbling. Sensing his unease, the young woman's cheeks coloured as she gently pivoted her head back to him.

— "It is true. The only one able to beat you was Arthur."

— "Says who?"

Colonel Mitchell's interjection caused Frances to cringe, his clear blue eyes demanding answers. Trust him to crash into a private conversation.

— "Arthur told me so himself," she retorted, straightening in her chair.

Stunned silence followed for a second, Samantha releasing a disbelieving huff while Daniel's awed features were frozen in place. The archeologist would have given anything to be in her place, to meet the infamous King Arthur and his knights! Colonel Mitchell, though, only muttered back.

— "Right. I keep forgetting you've talked to him."

Under the Colonel's stare, Kristan suddenly felt very self-conscious and retreated to his original spot at the table. On the other side, General O'Neill addressed him a playful look. That man saw too much, the slight twinkle in his brown eyes telling him there was no hiding from him. Protective much, eh? The age difference between Jack O'Neill and Frances was enough for her to be his daughter after all; he would have to tread lightly regarding this man.

— "Anyway, who cares," Colonel Mitchell added? "As long as we all can fire a MP-90 properly, we'll be fine."

— "Better than me, that's for sure," was Daniel's sarcastic retort.

General Landry, a slightly paunchy man with a levelled attitude, chose this moment to address his team.

— "SG1…"

— "Plus sidekicks," added O'Neill with a smile.

Frances made a face to hide the slight hurt his comment had called forth. Sidekick … she did not belong to SG1 anymore.

— "Hey, I resent that," she quipped back.

General Landry stood, actively stopping the heartfelt fight that was about to break in the briefing room.

— "Team! You will depart at 2 pm. In the meantime, I want you to hit the range and find a weapon for your newest addition"

Said young man stiffened; Kristan wasn't much at ease with guns.

— "A firearm?"

Lt Colonel Carter shifted in her seat, her long arms pushing against the table as she sent him a semi-smile.

— "Even Daniel carries a handgun."

O'Neill openly scoffed, but rather than being offended, the archaeologist chuckled as he wiped his glasses.

— "Yeah, even me. And believe me, I'm a sucker at this shooting game."

But Kristan still wasn't convinced. A quick glance at Frances, and she nodded reassuringly. How did she fare with guns, his little fairy? In front of him, Colonel Mitchell reclined in his seat, looking him in the eye with a smug look. The man was not five years his elder and already in charge of the most prestigious team of world savers. It called Kristan's respect, if not his sympathy, for any hostility towards Frances irked him. Didn't they all understand why she'd kept her missions a secret?

— "You can't obviously go out there without a proper weapon," said the Colonel. "In the galaxy, people fight with more advanced technology than swords."

His comment unleashed the spring under Frances seat as she suddenly bounced forth. There was such an aura of excitement about her that the whole briefing room froze.

— "A sword, of course! Daniel! The Dao you found, is it here?"

A dumbfounded archaeologist stared at Frances with wide eyes, as if he had forgotten something so huge, so important that it left him bereft.

— "The Dao … the… Uh. Yes. In my lab. My … of my!"

Then, Frances turned to Kristan, her face alight with such joy that it warmed his heart.

— "Kristan. You are getting your blade back!"

**_So. Introduction to Stargate dynamics and main characters. How is it going for those who don't watch the show? I feel a little guilty for dragging people from movie to show, but this is the essence of Frances' life so … suck it up? : D_**


	4. Chapter 4 - Camelot

**_First time through the Stargate for Kristan. More of the team's dynamics here, a little fluff between him and Frances, and some explanations on Merlin and his legends. I hope I you still enjoy. This is rather long, get the pop corn !_**

**_To Koba: Unfortunately, no sparring there. But you might get a nice fight next chapter _**

That was it. Staring at the stargate's rippling waves, Kristan suddenly wondered if he wasn't in a coma. General O'Neill hand on his shoulder anchored him to reality. Clad in standard military garb, bulletproof vest on his chest, handgun at his hips – they'd spent a fantastic male bonding moment at the range with Colonel Mitchell and General O'Neill – Kristan could only relish in the presence of his Dao at his hip. Its familiar weight channelled memories of his past self, memories that had trouble reconciling what he was about to do, with the knight he used to be. Still, closing his fingers around the hilt of his sword sent him courage, like a wave of energy surging through the earth, as if the planet remembered him. He that had once peacefully rested into its welcoming soil, dead. It was a strange sensation, to be reunited with the unique weapon of his past life.

Beside him stood Frances, the bulletproof vest thickening her small frame. The look of discontent in her eyes told him she'd rather wear her elvish armour, especially since her own sword strapped at her hip, gave the ensemble an odd look. It felt off, somehow, to carry such a weapon in the midst of all this modern material. Especially since the rest was standard military, including the P-90 strapped over her shoulder. Teal'c, the giant man, held a strange staff in his hands rather than a firearm. Kristan couldn't help but feel curious; perhaps the man would be willing to demonstrate his weapon at a later time. Suddenly, an eager voice echoed in the gateroom.

— "SG1, you're good to go."

A device had been sent a moment earlier, a MALP they called it, to check whether the place was breathable and devoid of any immediate dangers. Kristan had trouble believing that Frances, and those people, had done this a hundred times.

— "It's our cue," said Daniel as he climbed the ramp to the quicksilver horizon dancing in front of them.

Kristan took a deep breath, eyeing the archaeologist's and Colonel Mitchell's back. Their steps produced a metallic clang similar to the noise produced by skiers on the grids of a mountain resort's lift.

— "Right"

To his left, Lt Colonel Carter sent Kristan a nice smile before turning to General O'Neill. Frances' hand gently grabbed his forearm as she led them up the ramp.

— "Ready?"

— "I don't think one can ever be ready for that."

Kristan's eyes moved from the mesmerising vertical wall of liquid, to Frances' no less mesmerising eyes. The slight crease between her eyes told him she was worried; she didn't want him to pass the gate, to put himself in danger because of her. But the choice was his, and done in full possession of his wits. She would never again step a foot in harm's way without him.

— "Do you remember the first time you passed through?" came Daniel's voice beside them.

A fond smile quirked Frances' lips up at the memory, and Kristan realised how much he ignored about his little fairy. Seeing, in the fire range, that she was a pretty good shot had surprised him. Until he remembered her past dealings with Interpol and the FBI; this is where the handcuffs were from after all. He had only known her in a medieval setting. But here, now, she was showing her true colours.

— "It if helps, Jack shoved me through the first time I passed the gate."

— "It doesn't," he replied sternly. "And I will do it by myself, woman."

The archaeologist's eyebrows lifted at his offensive choice of words while Frances only chuckled. Behind them, General O'Neill's voice echoed in the huge gate room.

— "Daniel!" he yelled.

Daniel slightly turned, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

— "Yes Jack?"

— "Don't die"

— "I'll do my best," he called back, visibly annoyed.

General O'Neill's playful reply was launched back from the bottom of the ramp, but his brown eyes held more worry than he let on.

— "Not good enough!"

The archaeologist huffed in annoyance – it had become a customary goodbye for them – then stepped through the gate. In any other circumstance, Kristan's mind would have run dozens of scenarios about this last comment. But for the moment, his eyes were set on the gate surface. A few ripples greeted Daniel's passage through, and then … nothing. He was just gone into a rippling surface of quicksilver.

— "Frances?" came Jack's voice again.

This time, the young woman locked eyes with General O'Neill and nodded.

— "Yeah, I'll keep an eye on him."

— "And on your knight," he added.

Frances smiled at the general, then turned to Kristan with a fond expression.

— "I think he'll be keeping an eye on me."

Stunned as he was by the disappearance of Dr Jackson, Kristan still felt his knees go weak. There was fear and joy in her gaze. But it was the unconditional trust that floored him the most.

— "Shall we?" she asked.

Kristan steeled himself, turning to face the gate fully … and stepped forward. Beside him, Frances passed the horizon at the exact same moment.

The Keeper of Time emerged from the gate right beside Kristan. Slightly dizzy, she barely had time to brace herself against the former knight as he bent over. Dirty blond strands swayed over his face, brushing his high cheekbones as his hands locked on his knees. Eyes closed, he was breathing heavily. Frances locked her hands around his back and arm, hoping that he wouldn't topple over and send her sprawling. Despite his blatant lack of body fat, Kristan was a heavy man. Frances was impressed, truthfully, that he had not greeted the ground. The first time through the gate was overwhelming, and usually ended up with lots of vomit on one's boots and a revival of 'Jack and Jill went up the hill'. A quick glance at Colonel Mitchell informed her that he shared her feeling. Still pissed at her, yet he didn't take it on Kristan. For that, she was grateful.

It took a little while for the former knight to stabilise his breathing and refrain his stomach from expelling its content. He could feel the little fairy's soothing hands around him, supporting his swaying weight, and the gentle caress on his back. How distracting when he tried to regain his bearings! After a moment, Kristan felt good enough to straighten, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. A few feet away, the tall black warrior was surveilling the surroundings.

— "Are you well, sir Kristan?" asked Teal'c with his usual poise.

The title called a smile to Frances's lips, almost as much as the grunt supposed to be a response.

— "Then let's go!" called out Colonel Mitchell cheerfully.

And then, they were walking in the woods on a pretty abandoned path. The normalcy of it was exhilarating. Except that instead of Jack O'Neill, it was Colonel Mitchell who led the team. And that Kristan was here, by her side. Frances almost bounced from excitation, nearly forgetting the dire situation that had caused their hasty retrieval from Montpellier. Finding the anti-Ori weapon was their only chance of stopping the invasion of this unbeatable foe in their galaxy. Should they fail, earth was doomed. Hell, the entire galaxy was doomed.

But it felt so good, to show Kristan who she was entirely, without secrets, without holding back. Roaming planets through the Stargate had shaped her every single free moment in her life, made her who she was as much as her solo missions as Keeper of Time. Those people, the SG1 team, had been a second family. Fortunately, and contrary to her time travel mission, she didn't have to bid them farewell whenever a mission ended. Where she knew that Aragorn, Elrond's twins and Gimli were forever lost to her, she still had SG1. Granted, they didn't get to see each other so often, but they kept contact. They were, most of the time, on earth, at the same time. Daniel was a constant pillar in her life, especially since she didn't have to lie anymore. Now he knew about the Keeper of Time. And now Kristan knew about both. The Stargate and the Keeper of Time. Wow. What a huge leap of faith!

As they walked, talking about the kind of weapon Merlin might have created, one that cancelled any ascended's power, they emerged from the forest. A huge medieval city stood proudly on top of a hill. Sam whistled, turning to Colonel Mitchell.

— "Whoa. This looks promising."

Frances eyed the town warily, taking in the huge grey walls and moat that surrounded it.

— "It looks fairly modern," she grumbled.

Colonel Mitchell scoffed.

— "Modern? It is a frigging middle age city! "

Beside her, Kristan was studying the huge fortifications, his hawk eyes taking in the architecture before confirming the period gap.

— "King Arthur was from the fifth century. He lived on Hadrian's wall, Roman fortifications. This looks fairly different."

They all could hear the 'from what I remember', although he did not mention it. Daniel approached him as they trod through tall grass. That man was such a geek, spoke twenty-three languages, and could become an incorporeal being at will[1]. Yet, his friendly smile made him so easily accessible. Despite the heartache, despite all the wounds he'd sustained, everything he had been through, Daniel remained as open as a child. Kristan could only bow to his bright character – the opposite to Tristan; it was no wonder Frances loved him so fiercely.

— "I see what you mean. 14th century, with the turrets there," confirmed Daniel as he pointed to the round fortifications in the far corner.

— "Do you think we're not in the right place?" Sam asked as her eyes roamed the surroundings.

Eyes moving, feet silent, Kristan knew that the woman was looking out for trouble. For once, he wasn't the scout of the group. It brought him a strange sense of relief, not to be the one responsible for the safety of their company. This SG team, for one, was a small unit whose members were all highly aware of their surroundings, as if they expected to be ambushed any minute. Well, except for the Dr Jackson whose inner musings seemed so overwhelming that he might have walked straight into the moat without even realising it. It was no wonder the others were so protective of their archaeologist. Even Teal'c, the mountain of muscles whose forehead was tattooed with gold, spared a glance at the man once in a while. Was it the reason of O'Neill's warning? Don't die?

— "I don't know," eventually said Daniel. "After all, it had been a thousand years. Maybe those people have evolved into a more recent middle age society?"

Speculations continued as they passed the heavy doors and the narrow bridge that let them inside. Kristan's mind couldn't get enough of the scenery as his eyes took in every single detail. The layout of the rocks on the ramparts, the heavy iron grid suspended before their heads, the clothes as people went to and fro on the market place. This was a busy town, a very medieval and authentic place such as he'd never seen. It was mind-blowing, to be here, in the 21st century, and witness such a setting. Beside him, Frances smiled softly. Oh, she knew what went through his mind. Despite the fact that he was a difficult person to read, the young woman had always been quite attuned to his thoughts. Today was no exception.

— "It is extraordinary, is it not?" she told him.

Kristan only nodded. And then, his gaze caught something behind Frances. A sword that he knew from memory, set in stone in the middle of the market's place. Excalibur, Arthur's sword, waiting to be picked up.

— "Well, there's that…", came Daniel's voice as he pointed the artefact with his P-90.

The whole team turned around, catching a glimpse of Excalibur.

— "Holy shit!" came the Colonel's exclamation.

It didn't take long for the governor, a middle-aged man clad in velvet robes, to welcome the team to Camelot – Yay! they had found it! Frances had to refrain from scrunching her nose at the blatant colours, opting for a pointed look to Kristan instead; both knew how different clothes had been in the fifth century. Tristan's attire, for one, had been a linen tunic overlaid with a long leather vest that had seen much better days. A man, wearing long, deep reddish robe would have looked even more ridiculous than the Romans. But time had passed ever since … and in truth, women wore bikinis on earth so she was hard pressed to judge.

Meurik, as he was called, stirred them to the tavern to explain more about Camelot. He said it had once been home of King Arthur, and that they expected him to come back with his knights after the quest for the Sangraal was completed. Little did he know that one of them sat at this very table, trying very hard to pass unnoticed; despite his striking features, Kristan knew how to blend in. Very soon, a historian with a funny – erm, medieval – hat and an open disposition joined them, standing behind the governor. His eyes twinkled, so alike to Daniel whenever he made a discovery. As he talked of legends and past deeds, Frances wondered at the veracity of it all. Had Arthur eventually migrated to another planet, leaving earth behind? Was it the reason why there was so little left in Glastonbury? Had Merlin found a way to use the stargate? Too many questions, too little answers. She would have to consider this thoroughly later on; Daniel might know.

The young woman fidgeted in her seat, her arm brushing Kristan's. His presence tended to short circuit her brain and she couldn't understand why. It felt so normal, to be sitting beside him in a tavern. Despite the change of scenery – this place was nor as noisy, nor as lively as Vanora's – she kept expecting him to fish out an apple and slice it methodically. How comfortable they had become on those last days before his … death. The young woman shivered slightly, and a warm hand landed on her back. Despite the bulletproof vest, she felt every inch of it as Kristan addressed her a concerned look, deep grey eyes begging for her to share her thoughts. Their silent conversation was interrupted by Meurik's sudden departure, and the young woman nodded to the governor as he left. Etiquette was embedded.

Across her a pair of very dumbfounded blue eyes caught hers.

— "Did I offend him?" Daniel asked.

— "Erm," she started.

Frances couldn't possibly tell him that she had not paid an inch of attention to the discussion, too distracted by Kristan's slight touch and concerned eyes. Caught off guard – the archaeologist often referred to her whenever on missions – the young woman swore to herself that she wouldn't let Kristan presence distract her so much. Had the situation been different, it might very well have been the difference between life or death. Fortunately, the historian took the vacated seat, forthcoming with an explanation. His voice was soft, his manners opened, his slightly weathered face covered with a short whitish beard.

— "Not at all. It's just that Merlin's name is rarely mentioned in the public."

— "Why is that?" asked Daniel in his usual, 'foot in the mouth' manner.

The historian bristled slightly.

— "Well, many believe he was a wizard of darkness. He may have tried to do good, but there was always potential for great mischief in his heart."

Frances scoffed at this, earning a few glances from the team. Kristan addressed her a playful look – she knew of his poor opinion of Merlin – before she mumbled.

— "I have qualms about his methods for sure. But please, Master Antonius, continue."

The historian nodded respectfully, wondering at the appearance of those people, and about the knowledge they possessed. The fiery-haired woman had just talked of Merlin as if she knew him. Surely, he had interpreted wrongly.

— "Thankfully, he has neither been seen nor heard of since Arthur's departure. The library where he practised his strange arts remains sealed to this day."

Samantha Carter leant further on the table, her P-90 preventing her from reaching Antonius as she asked.

— "Merlin had a library here?"

— "Of course, it was his private sanctuary here in Camelot."

— "We'd like to see that." Daniel stated.

The historian's face seemed to crumble, his whole body leaning backwards as if to protect himself.

— "Well, I'm afraid that's impossible. The library is protected by a powerful curse. It is said that all those who enter Merlin's sanctuary forfeit their lives to its guardian, the Black Knight."

There was a heavy look passed between the SG team, one that said much.

— "Have any of you seen him?" asked Frances to the historian.

— "No, fortunately. They say he is unbeatable, and relentless."

The young woman nodded, eliciting to stay silent. For a while, Daniel just shot questions at the man, hoping to know more about Arthur and Merlin's whereabouts. When he realised it would lead nowhere – the historian knew no more than hearsay and lores of unpredictable reliability, he thanked the man and let him go. At last when he was out of earshot, Daniel bent over the table.

— "What do you think, Frances?"

— "A dark knight in Arthur's suite. I have an inkling of who that knight may be."

— "Lancelot," came Kristan's smooth voice.

Carter's eyebrows shot up, but it was Mitchell who voiced his surprise.

— "Wait, Lancelot? Wasn't he supposed to be Arthur's right hand, all bright and mighty?"

A smirk adorned Frances' lips, mirrored by Kristan's secretive one. Did he remember, by any chance, the stolen kiss? The young woman buried those thoughts instantly; better not to think about it now lest hell broke loose.

— "Oh, mighty that he was. Ambidextrous as well. As for the rest, he's not what they made him to be, believe me."

The Colonel relented, deciding that he would ask later. They needed to regroup, and think of a plan to get into this library unnoticed. Historical inaccuracies and childhood stories would have to wait. On cue, the whole SG team left the tavern, meandering through the streets with no amount of awe. It was like attending a medieval fair expect that there would be no cars, no cameras, and no 'made in China' boutiques on every corner. The only strangers to this feast were them, with their military attire and heavy weapons. Frances felt like stripping to her underwear and get back in her Keeper of Time armour. As for Kristan, he didn't feel much more at ease without his standard leather jacket and breeches. This whole suit; bulletproof vests, fatigues and military stuff didn't fit him as well as his tunics used to. Strolling casually, they gathered around Colonel Mitchell.

— "Okay, so best case scenario this curse of the Black Knight is a story Merlin made up to scare off the locals; worse case scenario he's got another holographic Knight protecting his goods like he did back in England. Either way, I don't see a big problem."

By his side, Teal'c made a face that looked almost comical on his usual stoic features. The expression didn't pass unnoticed as the Colonel sent him a vicious "what?' But Teal'c was impervious to intimidation.

— "Given your narrow victory over the Knight in the Avalon cave, it would seem your over confidence is ill-advised."

Frances bit her tongue at the jab while, beside her, Samantha smirked. Mitchell sent his teammate a scathing look before settling on Frances and Kristan.

— "Did I say anything about me doing the fighting?"

A single glance at Frances confirmed that she was pissed. And jetlagged, just as much as he was. Fortunately, they had caught a nap at the inn before the night while Daniel convinced the historian to surrender his keys of the library, now that they knew where it was located. Still, a few hours were not enough to make a happy Frances. Although she tried not to show it, he knew she totally disapproved the fact that SG1 had pressured the historian into their mess. She'd voiced her concerns to Colonel Mitchell; they were brushed off by a 'beggars can't be choosers'. Since then, she had not uttered a word. Kristan marvelled at her respect for the chain of command. Maybe she accepted, like they all did, the necessity to play a little dirty when the universe was at stake. Maybe she was just used to obeying the commander whenever SG1 was in a mission. Her apparent hostility to the plan remained hidden as she awaited for the historian to open the door before them.

The poor man was stressed, for sure, checking several times over his shoulder and begging them to keep his intervention a secret … from his wife, mainly. The whole team was sheltered in a dark alley, hidden in the shadows of the night, Mitchell and himself conversing in low voices.

— "So this Jaffa ritual…", started Kristan, his smooth tone rippling through the silence.

— "Kel shak lo," confirmed the Colonel.

The words meant nothing to him, the language entirely foreign. But if all Jaffa looked like Teal'c, it meant that the Colonel had undergone a fairly ruthless ritual in a congregation of deadly warriors. For Kristan had no doubt that Teal'c could beat him to a pulp in no time.

— "This is how you learnt to fence?"

— "Yeah, somehow. Do or die, uh?" he responded.

The best training one could ever get; there was no better motivator than facing death. Kristan knew this better than anyone; his dreams had introduced him to this very notion fifteen years ago. Life had been a bitch to Tristan; his survival ensured once he had acquired the necessary ruthlessness.

— "I am familiar with the concept. Or Tristan was…"

His answer called a pensive look on the Colonel's face; he was probably trying to grasp the heck of reincarnation. Then he bent closer, light blue eyes twinkling, and asked the question that was at the tip of his tongue.

— "So, serving under King Arthur, do you remember any of it?"

Even if none moved around them, Kristan could feel the other's attention shifting. Solely the historian and Daniel seemed oblivious as they continued to struggle with the heavy oak door.

— "Glimpses, dreams mostly. But Artorius wasn't King at the time."

— "Uh?"

— "Commander Castus was…"

The click of the door called them back to attention, and Kristan turned just in time to see a flash of blue light envelop the panel before it disappeared. For a moment, his brain was stunned; all this modern technology would need some practice.

— "There," said Daniel. "It is unlocked."

The heavy door cringed on its hinges, the consequence of many years of idleness. Colonel Mitchell was the first through, as a good leader should be. As his form disappeared from the alley, a mumble echoed slightly. At once, Frances shuddered beside him. Kristan's anxiety spiked intently; his little fairy scarcely reacted for nothing.

— "What is it?" he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.

The young woman nearly jumped at his proximity, but instead of turning around, she stood, frozen in place.

— "Spiders. I hate spiders"

A melodious laugh rang at the head of the column, the Lt Colonel Carter cocking her head aside.

— "You fight replicators, orcs, Goa'uld and monsters … and are still afraid of spiders?"

Frances glared at the blond woman.

— "Have I told you about the time I got attacked by a spider as big as a horse?"

Carter's smile fell, her wide blue eyes pleading.

— "Tell me it doesn't exist."

— "No such luck. Greenwood the great is infested."

Mitchell's disgusted voice echoed in the room.

— "Ugh! If I had known, I would never have set foot on this planet."

Kristan shared a look with Teal'c, the silent warrior bringing up the rear. The tall man barely acknowledged him, pointing to the entrance instead. Kristan could only surmise they spoke of their visit to middle earth. From what Frances had told him, there was not stargate on Arda. The chances of SG1 landing there, of all planets, as they passed with one of earth's ships were scarce. Yet, they had made it. The former knight was jealous; he too would have loved to contemplate this world Frances spoke so fondly of. Her writings had elicited many images in his mind, her descriptions beautiful, the people she had travelled with as noble as Arthur himself. A land of fairies and magic, a land of horse lords and courage.

Speaking of which, had SG1 meet her betrothed? And why was Frances still there, and Legolas still in middle earth, if they had found a way through? All those questions tortured his mind, and the knight willed himself to focus. He needed answers, and answers he would get. In time. Not now. The main issue, as of now, was to find this weapon and save the galaxy. A walk in the park. Teal'c motioned for him to proceed, and Kristan followed the team through the dark door.

The room was every bit what could be expected of a library, books and scrolls everywhere … except for the spider webs. Miles and miles of spider webs coated furniture and walls alike, the scent of dust permeating the air. The former knight could feel Frances' heavy breath beside him, her slight choking as she tried to adjust to the particles floating about. Yet he couldn't see her unless he pointed his torch right into her face. Teal'c passed them without a second thought, the historian on his heels, holding a strange sort of lamp looking like a huge cylinder. For a second, Frances' silhouette was revealed. Eyes wide, jaw tight, molars grinding against each other; she looked terrified. Kristan frowned as the dim light of the lamp ebbed, plunging them in darkness once more. The expression on her face didn't sit well with him; he never would have thought her to be so unsettled by spider webs. Switching his flashlight into his right hand, he tried to reach for her. The moment his fingers made contact with the fabric of her vest, Frances jerked away from him with a panicked huff. Disappointment shot through him; Kristan quelled his anger instantly, denying it a place in his heart.

— "It's only me," he murmured soothingly, keeping his voice low.

Silence ensued, only filled with the faint sound of footsteps and papers being shuffled by the others. The dim light barely allowed Kristan to distinguish the contours of his little fairy, huddled in a corner, until her shaking hand reached for him. Soft fingers curled around his own, and he enclosed them securely into his hold, conveying reassurance. The sweet contact sent tingles through his arm, his skin humming in satisfaction. Beside him, Frances took a step closer, breath short, palm sweating. She was careful in her moves, keeping away from furniture, eyes darting to the ceiling, squinting, checking every corner for the dreaded animal. Was she relieving those horrible memories? Her fear of spiders was so strong that it engulfed her totally, leaving no space for rational thinking. A phobia, stricto sensus. Kristan's heart went out to her, tugging on her hand, trying to get her back to reality without alerting the rest of the team. Frances slowly exhaled a shaky breath. Her terror was his undoing. Throwing caution to the wind, the knight pulled her to his side, barely refraining from embracing her totally. The young woman sighed in the awkward hug, resting her head against his shoulder as she closed her eyes, drawing strength from him.

Daniel's voice echoed in the room as his eyes roamed over the place, the beam of his torch cutting through layers of flying dust.

— "Yep, this could take a while."

Had he not been focused on their entwined hands, and the warmth of her body against his, Kristan would have chuckled at the dark humour. But there and then, nothing else mattered than his little fairy huddled by his side. She was the one to let go after a while. Maybe because Teal'c had started lighting up candles, and there were no spiders in view. Mayhap she only realised how improper their position was, bare fingers grazing against each other, in the middle of a world-saving mission. Still, he couldn't help but miss the contact and the warmth of her skin. He responded with a faint smile to the look of gratitude she sent his way. An unspoken thank you that she would never have to voice. No matter how, no matter where, Kristan would always be there for her.

**_ A little Frances/Kristan interaction in the midst of this mission. Still following? For those who know Stargate, how about the team dynamics? For those who don't, are you having issues identifying people? I would recommend looking on the internet for the SG1 team, and the stargate as it opens up as well. This is a sight!_**

* * *

[1] Daniel had 'ascended' twice, and 'descended' to continue working with the SGC. He was once dead for months.


	5. Chapter 5 - Lancelot

**_Hey! As usual, Koba set me in motion again. You're right, Kristan is just what Frances would have needed all those years, and now she doesn't have to keep secrets from him … just a little while longer, and they will have this discussion over Legolas. As for Frances being smothered by Kristan's care… Well, she can be difficult when she wants to. Perhaps she will bite his head off before it comes to that _****_ I miss the knights as well. We might see them, in time. Got a little surprise stored for you all. In the meantime, let's get this show on the road._**

Frances' goosebumps eventually receded as her brain switched to research mode. For an assistant archaeologist – which was the title she went by on her consulting contract with the SGC – this much amount of scrolls and old books resembled a Christmas offering. As Teal'c continued his methodical lighting of the place, Frances roamed the shelves with an eager expression. Giddiness replaced fear when she realised that there was not an eight-legged hairy animal in sight. Although it was hardly the time to do a happy dance, she couldn't help it; she loved languages, as much as history of the universe. Not French and dull recent history, mind you, but its equivalent in Daniel's world always uncovered many more secrets than what she'd learnt in school. Who cared about Louis XIV when you could hear about ancients, ascended beings, Sumerians, Egyptian Goa'uld, Celts, the Atlantide and King Arthur? Who cared about Louis XVI losing his head – he deserved it, hey! – when you could learn about Myrrdin?

Very soon, Daniel found lores from Merlin's time, in Briton. He was the only one that could decipher it, for even Frances could not read it. The few notions she kept from her time in the fifth century were mainly spoken, mostly gathered from hearing people in the tavern. Kristan alike had but few memories of the Brittonic language. The magic of the necklace couldn't help there, it only worked when on a mission for the Valar. Here, she would have to rely on her own skills. To many, Frances would have been considered multilingual; she spoke French and English fluently, Spanish and Italian rather well, a little Norwegian that led her to understand some Danish, Swedish and German – and Saxon, as a result – had some good notions of Latin and Egyptian thanks to her time in the SGC. Foreign languages, to which a few other worldly ones could be added; Sindarin or ancient, for example. Frances' mind relished in the gymnastics of language associations. She had started reading some German from learning Norwegian and English, cross-referencing the notions. Daniel had called her a natural; unlike sword fighting, languages came easily to her. She had her grandfather to thank for that; his ear in the family was legendary whether to play music or speak foreign tongues. It was also the reason why Daniel had offered an internship in the first place, aside from their easy-going relationship.

Compared to the archaeologist, though, Frances was but a toddler deciphering the TV program. And given the tremendous amount of information hidden in this library, the young woman was quite aware of her shortcomings. She could hardly imagine the discomfiture for Mitchell, Teal'c and Carter as they opened book after book. Kristan, for his part, barely dared touching the scrolls for fear they would disintegrate in his hands. Standing tall, he looked every bit Arthur's scout as he awaited for the research to be fruitful, his grey eyes following all members of the SG team as they roamed the place. Teal'c and his stoic countenance. Lt Colonel Carter, silently rummaging through books and bringing them to Daniel who sat before a desk filled with scrolls. Colonel Mitchell, grasping random objects, his MP90 tightly held in his other hand, impatience showing. The historian, holding books with reverence, awed at the mere possibility to touch them after all this time. And Frances, the faint line scrunched between her eyes as she tried to understand writings that would have made no sense to him. Her expression was adorable, her mind focused, as if plunged in another world.

Daniel's voice interrupted his musings as he pointed to a text, speaking to the uneasy historian.

— "This is interesting. This is a reference to Merlin's prophetic abilities, there's a similar myth on Earth. That Merlin could see future because he actually aged backwards in time. It's not meant to be taken literally but we have seen that a lot of legends in folklore have a strong basis in fact: Avalon, Atlantis."

— "The Easter bunny," added Teal'c, addressing the historian who seemed absolutely confused.

Tristan's muscles didn't move an inch, but his eyes betrayed his surprise. What a weird sense of humour, coming from the tall Jaffa. A bemused look passed between Carter and Daniel, and Frances caught his gaze. Mirth danced in her eyes, and she was biting her lip to refrain from laughing. Kristan's mouth quirked slightly as he understood that Teal'c was not joking. How naïve could such a man be? He who seemed a seasoned warrior, and ready to take anything thrown his way.

— "I guess there's a few exceptions," answered Daniel tactfully.

Ignoring Teal'c crestfallen expression, the result of an imperceptible tightness in his jaw, Kristan didn't miss Frances' focused features as she bent over Daniel's book. The archaeologist lifted his blue eyes to hers, interrogative.

— "This has nothing with aging backward or whatever other Benjamin Button nonsense" she told him. "Merlin could see the future because time is inconsistent in the afterlife"

Carter's elegant 'uh?' called her smile to Frances' lips.

— "Myrrdin was a former ascended being. His knowledge of the future was but a remnant of his memories before he took human form again."

This time, Daniel's blue eyes dawned with comprehension.

— "You mean…"

Frances bent an inch closer, trapping the archaeologist in her gaze. Suddenly, an invisible bubble seemed to engulf them, as if a new world, designed just for them, had been created out of time. A world where two minds could devise and think without a care for the callings of the flesh – food, sleep… The communion of two great thinkers who pushed one another outside the box. A sudden jealousy burnt in Kristan's chest; he could remember Tristan having the same time of communion with Frances back then, holding silent conversations before his brothers' very eyes with none of them the wiser. Was Daniel something more to Frances? The others seemed unfazed, visibly used to being shut out. Maybe they just waited for the explanation that would come forth once it was sorted out. But Kristan would have none of it as he silently glided closer to his little fairy. 'Mine,' screamed Tristan in the recessed of his soul.

Frances seemed oblivious to his approach as she bore holes into Daniel's eyes.

— "I mean that Merlin would have been the type of guy to tell me that someone had been watching over me for fifteen hundred years. Or that I would meet him again soon, because he actually had peeked into timelines while he wasn't human."

The archaeologist reclined in his seat, putting a little distance between Frances and himself, his mouth half open, eyes squinting in thought.

— "Of you mean, this type of guy?"[1]

A hum was his only answer, until Frances frowned, recalling Merlin's last words before she had left the fifth century. He had told her to hang onto hope that someday, she would do something for her, instead of having to choose for the world.

— "Wait a minute … he said something like this, this son of a…"

— "What did that old Woad say?" came Kristan's smooth voice right behind her hear.

The knight expected her to jump in fright, but she only turned to him, unsurprised. Although his presence shattered their strange geeky bubble, a fond expression brightened her features as she gazed upon him. She seemed … eager, no, ecstatic to have him by her side. As if his mere presence was the greatest treasure on earth … or the galaxy. The former scout melted at that, forgetting his annoyance at their closeness, forgetting even the fear to lose his touch in surprising people when he sneaked behind them. That's the effect she had on him.

— "Woad?"

Kristan turned to the archaeologist.

— "That's how we called them, for the horrible scent of their war paint produced from woad plants."

— "Well, that's neat," came Daniel's sarcastic retort.

Frances grimaced slightly. She had never approved of this appellation; but she'd never lost people by their hand either. To her, Picts were Picts, and despite behind Arthur's sworn enemies, they deserved their name to be respected.

— "Yeah. I told Arthur that Guinevere would have his head if she heard him. Anyway…"

Beside them, the historian stood frozen in place, trying to process all the information he'd just heard. Especially Kristan's little slip. The man had said 'we'. And the woman, once more, spoke as if she had known King Arthur and his Queen. In the far corner of the room, the Colonel was getting impatient, and started moving books around on a shelf, displacing dust in the process.

— "Well, I hate to break it to you folks but we kinda have to hurry, and the only technology I'm seeing is a bunch of dusty old books…"

Something clicked, and the bookcase suddenly started to swing aside to reveal a passage.

— "Wow, very Indiana Jones," quipped Frances.

— " … and a secret passage", added the Colonel.

Kristan smiled at the little fairy by his side. Finding a hidden library on another planet, filled with secret passages, looked like a story written for children. The ones he would have killed to be part of instead of going to school. With Frances by his side, though, he was getting accustomed to weird things. The historian, though, seemed rather fidgety and refused to follow through. Poor man; his sense of betrayal after opening the library to SG1 was nearly palpable. And most of his beliefs, the ones he had researched and bathed in his whole life, were probably upside down by now. Nor Daniel nor Frances had spelled it out to preserve his feelings.

The historian bid them goodnight and left. A strange sense of dread ran through Kristan's spine as the man walked to the door and disappeared in the dark alley. Dread and doom. Something he had learnt to trust in his years as a scout. Perhaps Frances would confirm his gut feeling, but when he turned to her, she was already passing through the bookshelf into the unknown. A surge of anger rushed him through the opening. Damn! she should have waited for him!

Downstairs, the team found the strangest device Kristan had ever seen. Well, after the Stargate, of course. Some kind of huge table whose surface was filled with rocky cubes covered by markings that Daniel identified as ancient.

— "It's not a puzzle, is it?" was Mitchell's first comment.

Kristan's lips twitched; he rather liked the Colonel's sense of humour. Daniel, however, tended to ignore it just as much as he ignored Jack O'Neill's quips.

— "No, it's an ancient control device," he answered.

Frances approached the archaeologist, her eyes roaming over the massive structure.

— "Like the one from Dakara?"

— "Yeah. It looks similar."

Kristan descended the steps slowly, marvelling at the sudden light that flooded the bare room when the archaeologist stepped in front of the device. Dakara, it didn't ring a bell. Despite the briefings, and crash course both Frances and Daniel had drilled into his brain before their departure, he felt very much at loss. The feeling didn't agree with his stomach, he that used to be aware of every single intake of breath fifty miles around his band of brothers.

— "What does it control?" asked the Colonel.

— "I have no idea. But I've seen this type of interface before; activating it is a matter of correctly interpreting these symbols."

Another riddle to solve, another set of hours spent researching while Daniel made sense of the new device. A vague notion of the time spent away from France – what time what is in Montpellier? What day? – sipped through his mind before it was crushed mercilessly. What a curious notion, to think about their respective jobs when the galaxy was at stake!

With any luck, this machine could be the weapon they were avidly searching for. Those damn Oris would be vanquished, the galaxy safe from their enslavement. And then, he and Frances and he could go home, and have this blasted discussion about her fiancé. Then … what? Despite his gloomy thoughts, Kristan's keen ears could not miss the scream that suddenly tore the nightly silence.

The scolding was well deserved, and Frances wondered why Meurik only chased them away instead of having them executed. After all, their historian was dead, by their fault, killed by the black knight. One life lost, the life of an innocent, loved, and married man. A heavy weight upon their shoulders. Beside her, Sam seemed as dejected as she. Despite her military background, she had always been a sensitive woman. Frances cursed Merlin's methods once more; the sorcerer and she would never see eye to eye. Killing innocents to prevent others from penetrating in the library, how despicable! She couldn't abide by this, and never would. Her whole being trembled in anger and shame. Was she just naïve in her views? As young as the woman who begrudged him his use of Guinevere to seduce Arthur all those years ago? Would Kristan accept the fate of the gentle historian as 'casualties of war?' Tristan would have without battling an eyelash, for sure. But even the seasoned warrior had been wary of Merlin and Guinevere, reluctant to sacrifice Arthur to the Woad princess at the time. If they crossed roads again, this blasted sorcerer would take a serious scolding!

Fortunately, Camelot's governor – Meurik – truly thrived on Arthur's ideals, showing mercy and asking them out of their town, out of their lives. Frances' heart grieved for these people, but her mind went to the million that counted on them to protect them from the Ori Invasion. As Daniel tried to argue their case, to teach them that Merlin's tricks were no magic, but technology – a lost cause – they were suddenly beamed onto the Odyssey, one of earth's ships. If Frances thought this day couldn't be any worse, she was about to take the coldest shower of her existence.

There was little time for presentation and sightseeing on this new ship, for the news that a newly formed Supergate – a giant stargate for ships – was nearly operational, sent her stomach plummeting to her feet. This would allow the Oris to invade the galaxy at will, and crash a planet in the process – a side effect from powering the supergate. If they managed to connect it, earth was in immediate danger. Hell, the whole galaxy was in danger ! If those sorry excuses of gods managed to drag all their fanatics here, there would be no stopping them. They needed Merlin's weapon, very badly. Time was running out. Adrenalin suddenly rushed through Frances' veins as she caught Kristan's gaze. The former knight's lips were set in a grim line, his features impassive. But his eyes, damn, those endless pools of grey were prey to an raging storm. His eyes told him of regret, and worry. A wave of angst hit her badly, creeping through her spine, invading her senses; it felt like Badon Hill all over again. The calm before the storm. The urge to suddenly hug Kristan, and get lost in the safety of his embrace was difficult to quell. She knew the subtle fragrance of his linen shirt, remembering the time she had crushed into his chest before the battle.

So when Daniel asked to stay on the planet to investigate the library and the ancient device, Frances couldn't pass the opportunity. She was, after all, the best qualified to help him. And as the Colonel said to the commander of the Odyssey:

— "I'll go with Jackson. A little quality time, and that Black Knight might show up again. That's why I'm taking those two with me"

Frances could have kissed Mitchell for his quick thinking… not that any of them would have appreciated the gesture. On the other hand, that meant SG1 was disbanded for the time being. She didn't like it one bit; it never bode well when the team had to split. The sudden feeling of doom washed over her, calling a shudder to her frame. That was it; the time of reckoning. Frances inhaled slowly, trying to soothe her nerves as she strode to Samantha Carter. The Lt Colonel was already seated at the controls and sent her an odd look. Her blue eyes reflected the numerous possibilities that ran through her mind, and all the crazy solutions she was already setting up to crash this supergate. Before she could voice her surprise, the tall blonde was crushed into a hug.

— "I've missed you, Sam. Be safe"

Carter watched as the young redhead circled around the control panel to hug Teal'c as well, Kristan's eyes never leaving her form. With the way he watched her, her knight reminded her of a hawk. A focused, piercing stare that threatened to uncover any deep-rooted secret. Yet, he seemed to have missed the most important one; the whims of Frances' heart. For she was quite adamant that they were not a couple as of now. Sam smirked. There would be some serious girl's talk when this whole mess was over.

— "Same goes for you, mighty warrior," she heard Frances tell Teal'c.

His deep booming voice answered calmly.

— "I will see you soon, Frances."

When the rest of SG1 was beamed down, Frances and Kristan with them, Sam shuddered in her seat. Somehow, Frances always seemed to know when things would work out fine, or go awry. Some kind of sixth sense that had served them well, but didn't reassure her the least. Her emotional goodbye didn't bode well. Sam huffed. Right. Time to get to work, and tear this supergate to fucking shreds.

Research started anew in Merlin's library, all of them treading in silence. The Odyssey commander had beamed them down directly, hopefully undetected by the villagers. Meurik had certainly been lenient enough for now, but if they were found against his wishes again, who knew what he might sentence them to.

Daniel was searching through mountains of books, trying to find a code to decipher the machine downstairs that had triggered the black knight's appearance. Mitchell had eventually fallen asleep over his P-90, holding it like a child would hug his comforter. Frances sat beside Daniel, her mind fully occupied into the books Daniel delegated to her. As for Kristan… Kristan just stood, impassive, guarding everybody's back. Until screams tore at the silence. Mitchell jolted awake, falling off his chair with a mumble that he was 'Kel no reeming'. The sharp 'bang' of the entrance door was all it took for him to jump to his feet. The noises only intensified, the muffled screams 'Dark knight' reaching their ears through the opening.

Frances' eyes shot up from her book, eyes wide as she realised that Kristan had leapt outside.

— "Damn it!" she yelled.

The Colonel was outside in the blink of an eye, Frances grabbing Daniel's arm forcefully.

— "Find a way to disable that blasted machine!"

The archaeologist was on his feet faster than it took to blink, and Frances bolted outside. The sharp light stunned her for a second, and she only distinguished silhouettes running in fright from the main street. Squinting, Frances took off at a sprint, legs pumping as she rounded the corner. Cries erupting as she shoved the panicking people aside, trying not to harm anyone. But her gestures were harsh, fueled by worry.

— "Make way," she yelled, her feet losing grip on the cobbled street as she ran.

At last, Frances erupted in the main square, her breath short, only to find Colonel Mitchell on the ground beside a shaken Kristan. Her knight stared, mouth slightly open, at his brother in arms from another life. Yet, his blade was ready, his jaw set, grey eyes boring holes into the dark knight who twirled his twin blades around. No matter how shocked, Tristan was there, deep down, ensuring the survival of his modern self. Protecting him from the threat. Dark curls, a goatee adorning his chin, dull brown eyes – when they should have been twinkling – and a blade in each hand. There was no mistaking who the dark knight was.

— "Lancelot" she breathed.

Or a hologram of him, for the he didn't even acknowledge her. Instead, he slashed forward in a move that was so characteristically Lancelot that Frances' heart ached for her lost friend. How difficult this must be for Kristan, he than only had glimpses of his past self! Lancelot's eyes were devoid of emotions. Faster than light, Kristan raised his blade to parry, blocking the blow with his natural efficiency … only for Lancelot's other holographic blade to connect with his hip. He fell to the ground with a grunt of pain, Frances' yell of anguish echoing against the high walls of Camelot. Kristan was not Tristan, and had little experience against twin blades. Both he and Mitchell were fighting the pain now!

Anguish washed through Frances and she launched herself on the dark knight with a mighty cry. Never before had she faced Lancelot in battle, and she had no clue how to handle his ambidexterity. Her elvish blade, though, channelled elvish magic through her veins, making her faster stronger, more cunning. Frances slashed right and left, dancing around Lancelot as her blade connected with his, retreating more often than she advanced. The stupid knight was so fast, his blades coming from both sides. His constant harassment kept her on her toes, his blades nary missing her head as she stole a glance to Kristan, struggling to get on all four. Mitchell was still on the ground, his head bashed in the mud but she had not time to linger on his condition.

Lancelot's blade swished past her cheek and she bent backwards, only for his other sword to nick as her thigh. A jolt of lightning ran through her leg, frazzling her nerves until her knee connected with the hard-cobbled street.

— "Damn!" she yelled. "It hurts."

But Lancelot was relentless as he came for her again, and Frances barely had time to roll onwards, his blades clashing behind her. The young lady tried to pull herself to her feet but each time, Lancelot's sword barely missed her, leading her to roll again and again in a chase of cat and mouse. Those cobbled stone were so hard beneath her elbows and hips; there would be bruises. Again ! Frances ground her teeth as she crumbled gracelessly, once more, out of reach. She needed to stop seeing Lancelot as her friend and go for dirtier moves. Lifting her elvish blade to block one more blow, Frances' kicked her assailant's knee hard … only for her foot to go through the hologram. In her surprise, her body twisted, exposing her just a moment too long. A heavy blow left a hot trail of fire along her spine as Lancelot's blade connected. A neat slice, except that instead of cleaving the flesh, it just sent Frances writhing on the ground, stunned. The pain fried her nerves so badly that she couldn't even cry out.

'Move, move, move' came her mind's frantic mantra. If she stayed on the ground, she was as good as dead. There was only so much her heart could take before it stopped altogether. This is probably what happened to the historian… poor man. But her nerves categorically refused to send the order through her spine and she watched, helpless, as Lancelot's blades descended upon her neck…

* * *

[1] Daniel told Frances before she moved back to France that someone had been watching over her in her travels, and that she might meet him again as mentioned in the earlier chapters. Those are memories from the time he was ascended.


	6. Chapter 6 - May the Valar guide yourpath

**_Hey, there's a little line inspired by Koba. Will you be able to find it? And I'm extracting this stargate part to another, hence splitting this story in two parts. The Tristan/Frances on one side in the King Arthur section "The lone knight", and the Stargate parts on the others "Hunting King Arthur". It is too complicated otherwise, and no one will ever come looking for a King Arthur/stargate crossover. The thought itself is rather preposterous: D The only common character is Merlin aha._**

Frances knew, in this very moment, that she was screwed. It all went in slow motion; her desperate plea to her brain to shake her body, the refusal of her nerves to obey as she watched, helpless, the perfect trajectory of Lancelot's blades. He always loved to decapitate his opponents, that cad of a knight. The memory of those headless bodies, in the battle of the Bishop, his face splattered with blood, revealing the extend of his wrath. And now those beloved blades descended upon her own neck…

Only to be blocked with a familiar Dao. The villagers cried, massed around the square, as Kristan gained the upper hand. His grey eyes, laced with worry, met hers briefly before he viciously attacked his former brother. Gone was the confusion, replaced by the coldness of Tristan whenever a blade sung in his hands. The clanging of swords echoed against the walls as Frances regained her bearings, a deadly dance engaged between Lancelot and Kristan. The young woman sat shakily, blinking at the former scout. How weird, to see Tristan fight in the SGC attire. The military vest, filled with pockets, just looked wrong.

But his hands wielded the beloved Dao with ease and he held his ground against Lancelot's double edge … just barely. Tristan's practised moves permeated through his style, but the slightest of hesitations brought Lancelot's blades too close for her comfort. Had he not been so deadly, so precise, so agile with his feet, he would have succumbed already. But Kristan attacked the dark knight relentlessly, using footwork to push his adversary off balance, stepping around him to stay out of reach. Still, there could be no victory achieved, for Lancelot was programmed to triumph.

The dark night's left blade nicked Kristan's arm. Gasps erupted in the crowd, seeing their champion's face contort in a painful expression. His feet stumbled, a grunt escaping his lips. Pure, white rage suddenly washed over Frances at seeing him in danger – again – because of her. She jumped to her feet, pushed by fear and adrenalin, her elvish blade connecting with Lancelot's sword before he could lay a crippling blow upon Kristan.

Just a look passed between them before they launched themselves back in the fight. Kristan was a little slower than Tristan had been, and Frances endeavoured to compensate by creating openings. Within seconds, the deadly dance intensified. Both attuned to the other's needs and intentions, both creating an inescapable web around the dark knight. Lancelot's eyes did not twinkle, he was dead to the world, just a holographic projection. Even in defeat, for it was inevitable, his style did not falter, his blows didn't lessen, the speed of his attacks and parry only stronger since he had to fend two opponents.

An incredible sense of elation washed through Frances as she realised that, this time, they could prevail against their foe. That she wouldn't have to watch Kristan's back as he left her behind on the battlefield. It meant the world to her that this time, he accepted her presence by his side to lay waste to their enemy. Even if this enemy was Lancelot. A strange sort of payback for Badon Hill – for he had lived, and Tristan died. For a moment, Lancelot's faced morphed into the Saxon's heavy features, his blond braids taunting her to slice his throat as Kristan ran his Dao across his back. The young woman gave way to her rage, her blade connecting with the dark knight's neck in a barely controlled gesture. All the pent-up anger, the sorrow and frustration from the past years ran through this blow. But the dark knight barely flinched, his counterattack blocked at the last second by Kristan's blade before it connected with her face.

Frances stumbled back, her eyes wide, her breath short. How could they prevail if killing blows didn't stop him? In Avalon, the holographic Tristan had bowed to defeat. Here, Lancelot seemed to be programmed differently, and it did not bode well for them

— "Your magic, little fairy!" called Kristan.

It made sense. If they could not beat him like the Avalon knight, Glorfindel's magic was their last resort.

Cameron Mitchell's mouth was hanging open. Not from the pain, no. Although it was still rather astute and prevented him from trying anything. A few villagers had helped him out of the mud, and he now sat on the cobblestones, nursing his aching body.

— "Wow," he murmured. "I'm good, but not that good."

He had, in truth, trouble believing his eyes. The deadly dance was mesmerising, their symbiosis dumbfounding, the efficiency of their blows, the precision of the footwork, the beauty of their fighting enthralling. And then Frances stepped back, closing her eyes – CLOSING HER EYES! – as the former knight covered her. The amount of trust it took, to do such a thing, floored him entirely. What the hell was she doing? Beside her, Kristan monopolised the dark knight's attention by meeting him blow for blow. The man was precise, emotionless, a ghost of a smirk upon his features as he fought, untouched. How could a man be that proficient with a blade? How much of the knight resurfaced in this very moment? There was rage, and speed, efficiency and ruthlessness. Somehow, Mitchell wondered if he wasn't seeing the past through a magical window. Kristan's strange curved sword connected more than once on the dark knight; the curly-haired man didn't react. Invincible.

For a moment, Cameron Mitchell wondered how long Kristan would be able to unleash his deadly storm upon Merlin's creation. Albeit it was an incredible moment – who could claim to have witnessed a sparring match between two round table knights – it was only a matter of time before Kristan faltered. Then … the whole town would me massacred. For once, Mitchell wondered if they had not eaten more than they could chew. Teal'c previous words, mocking his confidence, rang through his mind. Once more, Jaffa wisdom embedded itself in his skull the hard way.

But then something extraordinary happened. Frances' eyes opened once more, and her blade started shining a bright light, its radiance so pure, so beautiful that his eyes watered. The young woman lifted her shining blade as Kristan's sword lead the dark knight for her to cut down. Frances' blade fell, the blow swift, precise and powerful. Her blade passed through Lancelot's swords like a knife through butter, traversing his body altogether, its light illuminating them as it slashed. Then the dark knight disappeared in a flash of white light, and silence descended upon the square.

Frances and her knight shared a look of relief, nonplussed by the fact that her blade returned to normal, before cheers erupted in the crowd. The villagers were coming back to life and he could understand them. For the first time in more than a thousand years, the dark threat was eliminated from their life. Colonel Mitchell stood shakily, his muscles screaming at him as he walked up to his makeshift companions. He wasn't stubborn enough to deny that, without them, this whole mission would have been a terrible fiasco. Limping on the cobbled square, Mitchell clasped Kristan's shoulder in thanks.

— "Thank you. Without you, I'll be sushi now."

The knight gave him a crooked smile, turning to the woman by his side with barely concealed wonder. Mitchell repressed a smirk; man, he got it bad! Although winded, Kristan's voice didn't raise from his usual smooth tone.

— "Thank her. I was just there to temporise."

— "Damn good temporisation," he said, clapping his shoulder in praise. "You're good with that blade."

Frances sent Kristan a weary smile.

— "Yeah. You were incredible."

Kristan shuffled with his shoulder, trying to release the tension his muscles had sustained in the fight. A pretext, for the soreness of his muscles didn't beat that of his broken heart. Yet, he would not, could not falter now. Fighting Lancelot, his brother in arms, had taken such a toll on his soul, awakened memories and emotions from a distant past. Better to concentrate on the pain; here and now, before this swirl incapacitated him entirely.

— "Blame my modern training as fencing instructor."

Then he spared a glance at the sword in the stone, standing proudly like a symbol of old, surrounded by stunned villagers who didn't dare approaching them. He would have recognised Excalibur anywhere. Was it even the original one?

— "I wonder how Arthur was able to fight with this, my arms ache already."

Frances followed his line of sight, wondering the exact same thing. Then she scoffed, remembering the bulky man who towered over her with his long red cape.

— "He probably weighed fifty pounds more than you, Kristan. His armour alone, probably a freaking ton. And he used blunt force more than you did. You always had a very particular fighting style, closer to Japanese kendo than to medieval fencing. I blame your physique and your sneakiness."

A sad smile tugged as Kristan's lips, and Frances addressed him a worried look before the Colonel landed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to Mitchell with wonder.

— "I would eat my cap to have been there, you know."

His clear blue eyes twinkled with envy and Frances was reminded, once more, how lucky the Keeper of Time was in her friendships. Yes, she had fought alongside the knights of the round table, and called Arthur by his given name. Even hugged him, and been hugged back. How great was that?

— "You can probably eat your scarf too" was her answer.

The jab sent them into a collective chuckle, the three of them releasing the tension. Out of the corner of her eye, Frances saw that Meurik hesitated to interrupt them. How would the governor react to their presence, now that hell had broken loose again by their fault? God, they needed a little respite!

— "So, is this what you learn as the Keeper of Time?" asked Mitchell.

Frances nodded, sheathing her elvish sword. It felt weird, not to have to flick gore and blood away from the blade; a welcome change. It didn't mean she wouldn't give it a good oil rub and check the edge later on.

— "Amongst other things, yes. But that's not the aim, only the means."

— "Did Tristan teach you?"

A shadow passed on her features, schooled instantly to hide deep sorrow. She couldn't look at Kristan in this very moment; the pain was just too raw.

— "Sadly, no. He … died before I could ask. A pity, he was an incredible archer and swordsman."

A heavy silence settled for a moment, Frances wondering if, maybe, it would be time to mention Legolas and middle earth. For this is where she had learnt archery, and mastered the difficult art of swordsmanship. A quick glance at Kristan told her he knew the subject she was tip toeing around. Gone was the shaken young man; instead, she gazed right into the eyes of the scout. Without the beard and long braided hair, there was no escaping the intensity of his stare. Would Mitchell ask, and set his foot in his mouth?

— "You know Frances, I might end up reading all those manuscripts after all."

Frances addressed Cameron Mitchell a shocked look. She knew, from Jack, that the Colonel had read every single report from SG1 from the eight past years. And remembered most of them. Something Jack would never have done, of course. The fact that Mitchell was willing to read her reports from the Keeper of time, well … it was a nice peace offering.

But then, Daniel came rushing through the square, his wide blue eyes taking in the three of them – standing! – with relief.

— "Did I disable it?" he asked, his face flushed. "I … uh. I shot the commands in the end."

Mitchell turned to his colleague with a smug look, thumbs tucked into his waistband like a cowboy. He looked every bit the American country man posing like that. Frances felt her lips tug slightly at Daniel's expectant expression.

— "Well, Jackson… No"

The archeologist eyebrows arched over the rim of his glasses.

— "No?"

Mitchell smiled, showing his two swordsmen with the tip of his P-90.

— "It didn't work, but those two managed so we're good."

— "Oh. OK. Good, good"

All hell broke loose at this very moment. Seeing the spokesman of SG1, the villagers swarmed the place. Bruised and beaten as they were, it took a little while for the three warriors to realise that Meurik was congratulating them rather than scolding them. At this point, they all retreated – too eager to flee the proceedings – to give Daniel the honour of conversation. Frances' brain was mushy, and her body ached all over. A quick glance at Kristan told her he didn't fare any better. Placing herself on his other side, away from Mitchell's line of sight, she nudged his arm discreetly. Kristan addressed her such a confused look that she realised he had been far, far away.

— "Hey there, sir knight. Are you alright?"

— "I will be," was his simple answer.

Better this than to dwell on the thought that his friends, his brothers in arms, were all dead. Seeing Lancelot, even discarnate, had called forth memories and emotions that dwelt in the depth of his heart. And this loss, the one he had faced more than twenty times as a knight, each time he had buried one of them in their sad little cemetery, resided in his chest right now. Like a dull ache that never faded, weighing him down, bit by bit, until all that was left of his hopes was crawling on the ground. Tristan's pain taunted him, buried deep within sneers and gruffness. And now, seeing Lancelot…. It felt like had lost all of them altogether.

Her warm fingers gently grazed his in a gesture of comfort. Somehow, she knew how he felt. Maybe not in detail, but the essence of his heartache reflected on her features. She, too, had lost them for good. And as Daniel Jackson dragged the governor and his suite back to the library, Kristan decided that, for once, he wouldn't behave like an oyster. There would be no burying of sorrows in blood and ale now that she was there. He wasn't the solitary Tristan anymore; he could trust. Hence his next words, barely spoken above a whisper, but heard nonetheless.

— "I have just lost them all."

Frances nodded, keeping close.

— "Yeah. You must miss them a thousand times more than me. And the Valar know I miss them, even Lancelot."

There was no response for a while, until they passed the library's heavy door, still ajar from Daniel's hasty departure.

— "I have missed my brothers my whole life. Only now, I understand who they were, and why."

Frances watched from the door as the archaeologist fished out another book, showing it to a stunned Meurik; the governor had never set foot in the library as was amazed by it just as much as his deceased historian. The memory of this lovely, open-hearted man flashed in her mind for a moment… Damn Merlin! Daniel was interrogating them on a pendulum, the 'Sangraal', he had found earlier in the day. The 'sangraal' was a pendulum? Well, that was new. And weird. Indiana Jones was wrong then.

Storing the information for later, Frances remained by the door, Kristan close by. Mitchell passed them, giving them some privacy. She had to give the Colonel credit for his subtlety; no wonder Jack had chosen him to lead SG1.

— "Memory loss is a bitch," she said.

She remembered, as well, how Daniel has struggled after his first descend, trying to patch up who he was through the voids of his memory. She could hardly imagine how difficult it must be for Kristan. Then an idea popped into her mind. A crazy, totally far-fetched idea.

— "Hey, do you think we could find … others like you?"

Grey eyes, usually so stoic, watched her in amazement.

— "Like me? You mean reincarnated?"

— "Yes, why not?"

Kristan paused, considering the question for a moment. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but the idea had some appeal.

— "Maybe"

The message went through; the matter would be discussed later. Frances' attention switched between him and the discussion happening a few feet away. A woman's thing, to be able to follow two conversations at the same time. Maybe she could fill him up on the 'Castiana, Vagonbrei and Sahal nonsense' they were babbling about right now. But in the meantime, he needed to convey another message. A slight smirk quirked his lips as he bent a little closer.

— "In the meant time, I'm glad our debt is settled now."

Frances gave him her best 'deer caught in the headlights' look, the line between her eyebrows appearing again.

— "Uh?"

A full smile, so out of place, bloomed on his face and Frances felt her knees go weak. Would she ever get used to this? He was so close that his breath fanned on her face, the silk of his voice mesmerising.

— "You promised we would fight Lancelot together for this kiss he stole."

Then Kristan settled back on his heels with a smug face, watching the reddening of her cheeks with satisfaction.

— "I can't believe you remember that!" she hissed, slapping him on the arm.

When the former scout only raised a challenging eyebrow, she huffed.

— "I didn't even write it down in the manuscript!"

— "Affective memory, little fairy," he only stated.

Then he walked up to Daniel and Colonel Mitchell, leaving her rooted to the spot. He wasn't about to stick around for her to ask the details of this implication – they'd shared their first and only kiss because of this – and returned his attention to the conversation at hand. Meurik was adamant that they stay, having vanquished Lancelot. Poor brother; they only viewed him as a threat, not even knowing that he was Arthur's closest friend. It made his insides cringe that his memory should be desecrated thus. F … Merlin a hundred times over!

Now Meurik bowed slightly to him, and it was all Kristan could do not to blush.

— "Now, you are welcome to stay with us and wait," said the governor. "As the men, and woman, that conquered Merlin's curse you will be given a place of honour"

Frances saw Kristan's poise fade slightly, and the tightening of Daniel's jaw at the mention of a curse. For a historian and culture nerd, he still had trouble accepting those antiquated beliefs. His intolerance only grew with the Goa'ulds and their difficult habit of posing as false gods and reducing people into slavery. Daniel was the 'nothing but the truth' kind. Speak of magic, and burn at the stake. Of course, Frances never mentioned the elvish magic of her blade lest the whole SGC try studying her sword. A never ending fight she was trying to avoid. And she saw, the exact moment where Daniel couldn't contain his lecturing any longer.

— "Look," he said, directing a stare to Meurik. and his minions. "Once and for all there was no curse, okay? This is a device. It's a machine; it's like a flour mill or a catapult, it's just a lot more complicated. There is no magic…"

Frances strode forward in hopes of appeasing his rant … and was beamed out in a flash of white light, landing on the bridge of yet another ship.

— "Boy my timing is off today!" Daniel huffed.

Unfazed by the change of scenery, Frances gave a quick glance around her to ensure Kristan and Mitchell had also been beamed up, and returned to the subject at hand. Slapping the archaeologist's arm, she scolded him.

— "Why do you insist on explaining magic and stuff?"

— "Because people need to know the truth!" was his heartfelt response.

Frances rolled her eyes.

— "It's your truth, Daniel, and it's only partial. You're shaking pillars, replacing it with incomplete knowledge. What about the elves? They weight nothing, and are immortal. They call this the magic of the Valar, their gift. Do you think that technology as well?"

At this point, Mitchell pointed to her sword, his mind still reeling about the little miracle he had witnessed earlier.

— "And what about the s…"

Frances turned to him, interrupting his sentence forcefully.

— "No. Let's stay on safe trails there."

— "But…", he protested.

She couldn't let him go that way. Not until she had sorted out the consequences of it all.

— "Aha!"

Jack's favourite expression, uttered with the conviction of the Keeper of Time, took the Colonel aback. There was such fire in her gaze, such confidence in her posture that he wondered how he had not seen it before. Frances was a fighter, even if she did not relish in the fact. And that fancy trick of hers with her blade … magic? He would find out what it was, eventually.

Fortunately, the commander of the Korolev – the ship that had beamed them up – decided to make his presence known. And he was every bit the Russian captain as he scolded to the makeshift SG team with a heavy accent.

— "Welcome to the Korolev, SG1. I hate to interrupt, but we are on a schedule here. We will jump into hyperspace and join the fleet at once."

This statement sobered up the whole team, and for a moment, a space fly would have been heard.

— "Give me just a moment, commander," Daniel asked. "Please?"

The man nodded grumpily to the archeologist who turned to Frances, his annoyance forgotten. Already, a thousand possibilities ran in his mind; the decision imposed itself at once.

— "Frances. Now things are sorted out with Meurik, it would be wise that you continue the research while Cameron and I join Sam and Teal'c into crashing this super-gate."

The young woman blanched, eyes boring holes into Daniel's. She was not fooled by what he offered; an escape route. One she would have discarded in any other circumstances; abandoning SG1 in the direst of situations. But today was not any day. She had Kristan to consider, and refused to lead him into the fray. They would be useless in a battle of ships, contrary to Colonel Mitchell who could fly an F-302, and Daniel who could do … well, anything, really. Sensing her hesitation, the archeologist landed a soothing hand on her arm. Her wide chocolate eyes regarded him fearfully, and he refused to hug her. This was not goodbye.

— "Get back down there, fish out something on Sahal, Castiana and Vagonbrei. We need the Sangraal, we need Merlin's weapon"

Right. Completing the quest of the Sangraal when Arthur and his knights couldn't. A menial task.

— "No pressure," she croaked.

Daniel smiled reassuringly.

— "Once you find what we need to steer us in the right direction, meet us back at the SGC."

He didn't add 'if we make it' but they all heard it. Then his deep blue eyes steered over her shoulder, encountering those of the former knight. Daniel conveyed his message quite clearly and Kristan nodded, seizing Frances' arm to lead her aside. Now, the archeologist knew that her knight would protect her no matter what.

— "Come," Kristan said, the silk of his voice barely passing the barriers of her numb mind.

The former scout tugged on her harm, and Frances followed.

Half a day later found them before the Stargate, in Camelot. Jack O'Neill's voice echoed through their military talkie walkie, somehow passing through the quicksilver horizon as if distance didn't matter. Standing in the tall grass, Kristan listened in wonder as Frances communicated with the general on the other side.

— "I'm sorry, kiddo, we don't have good news for the moment. The Korolev kas kinda … been blown to pieces"

Frances gasped, her gaze resolutely set on the rippling horizon. Defeat.

— "Daniel?" she asked in a breath.

O'Neill seemed to hesitate slightly.

— "Somewhere … unknown at the moment. Cameron has jumped into a F-302 before the Korolev exploded, and the Odyssey has beamed some of the Russian crew before … you know."

So Mitchell was accounted for. This was a good start. As for Daniel, who knew where he could be at the moment. Given that the Korolev was down, and the archeologist was nowhere to be found in the rescued crew, she could only hope he had found a way out – corporeal or not – before hell broke loose.

— "Teal'c and Sam?"

— "Er. Teal'c has gone to fetch some help, didn't say where. AWOL at the moment. And Carter…"

Frances shared a troubled glance with Kristan. They had failed to disable the supergate, and now unbeatable Ori vessels hung around the galaxy. And the three original members of SG1 were missing. Great. Kristan's eyes didn't give anything away, keeping his stoic façade for her sake. Little by little, the former scout delved deeper into the life of his little fairy. If all missions with the SGC went like this, he understood better how she kept her cool in the face of death. When she broke eye contact, it seemed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.

— "What happened, Jack?" she asked.

— "Carter was trying to crash of the pieces of the supergate by setting a bomb, she went out in a spacesuit. No news for the moment."

His voice didn't shake, but for those who knew him… The underlying threat of retribution to whomever had left her, alone, in the emptiness, tainted his tone.

— "The Odyssey didn't get her back?"

The young woman frowned; there was only so much autonomy in those space suits. It didn't bode well for her friend. No matter how creative Samantha could be, there was no escaping a shortage of oxygen into the endless pit of space.

— "Not yet. They're stranded, thrusters are damaged. They can't move"

Frances sponged her forehead with her sleeve, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly. No one better than Sam to repair a failing ship … except that she was stranded in space. Jack must be frantic with worry, and she could only admire his ability to remain professional.

— "… OK"

General O'Neill wasn't fooled by her lack of swear words, nor by the controlled reaction. He knew her well enough to picture her crestfallen face right now.

— "We've had worse, kiddo. Netu, Baal's torture chambers… Name it, we've had it. Daniel died, eight times, and he's still here."

It was Kristan's turn to gape. Eight times! What the hell? Was the man a cat? It meant he had only one life left, the ninth. This one.

— "Try not to worry too much," came Jack's voice in the com.

— "Right." Then she started singing under her breath, earning a slightly amused look from Kristan. "Je vais bien, tout va bien, je suis gaie, tout me plait…[1]"

O'Neill interrupted her French rant sternly.

— "Frances. The Ori's are roaming free in the galaxy. You are on the way to earth. If one of them shows up, you get the hell atta here."

— "But…"

— "Aha! No but, this is an order, understood?"

Kristan started at that. So, this is where Frances got our famous 'aha!' from. And it seemed to hold a certain magic, for she sighed dejectedly.

— "Aye, aye sir"

— "I need to go, Frances. Is your man around?"

The former scout held his breath, surprised by the possessive appellation that the general seemed to fancy.

— "Yes, he's here."

She had not denied it.

— "Kristan?"

The knight angled closer to the talkie walkie, his eyes still set on the rippling surface of vertical quicksilver. So many emotions, and too little time to make sense of them. The greyish surface reflected in his own gaze, brightening its colour even more.

— "Yes, sir?"

— "I trust you to do what's necessary."

The former scout nodded; he knew what O'Neill meant by that. To get Frances to safety should any of those Ori priest set foot on the planet. The same unspoken agreement he had shared with Daniel before they were beamed down, again, on Camelot to finish the job. He understood now, what Frances meant; the whole team was guarding her back, just as much as she guarded theirs. Kristan's voice was firm, oozing determination as he answered.

— "You can count on me."

The answer only partially surprised him.

— "I know. O'Neill out"

**_So. Things are getting difficult. I hope you enjoyed the fight, it was a good one. _****_Poor Kristan is being thrown all over the place, emotionally wise. Next chapter will conclude this Stargate story, for now, before we get back to earth and more everyday life matters._**

* * *

[1] I am well, all is well. I am merry, everything agrees with me. I really don't see why it shouldn't be.


	7. Chapter 7 - The engraving

**_Hey Koba, I'm so happy you found it! I was worried since you don't have an account about the redirection. Anyway. Here is another chapter that I hope you will like. As for the fact that Kristan recognizes the 'aha!', this was your idea too :)_**

Research resumed in Merlin's library. It seemed that every time they set foot in this blasted place, two of their team went gallivanting about the galaxy. First Sam and Teal'c, now Daniel and Mitchell. It didn't prevent Frances from roaming through dozens of scrolls and books in multiple languages as Kristan slowly explored the place, looking for clues, sometimes opening a book in hopes of finding something. But the writings remained obscure to him, and as time flew by, the knight decided to get something to drink and eat in the tavern. If he couldn't help the lady deciphering God knew whatever language she was reading, he might at least provide some fuel for her brain. When he returned, Frances' head was buried into her hands. The sight of her, so dejected, clenched his heart. Laying down his heavy tray, Kristan knelt beside the little fairy and set a gentle hand on her knee. Frances barely moved, eyes shut below the shelter of her fingers.

— "Tired?" he asked.

He knew she probably was worried sick about her team and the rest of earth's crew, and the dark circles under her eyes were testimony enough of the lack of sleep they had accumulated those past days. He, too, was having serious trouble staying awake. The young woman sighed, peeking at Kristan between her fingers.

— "Exhausted. My mind is numb, Kristan, I just can't think anymore."

— "Aye. Maybe you should rest a couple of hours. I asked some tea for us in the tavern, it might help."

A heavy huff escaped her lips. Herbal tea, they probably had a good laugh at Kristan's expense for him not to order ale or mead. He was a knight after all! Anyway… She felt a wave of gratitude washed for the man who looked after her in such a difficult moment, she slouched backwards in the chair, mildly appeased.

— "I can't rest, not now. God knows what battle is waging up there. I don't know how much time we have before those Oris decide to set their view on earth"

Kristan pulled a chair next to hers and settled down, giving her a terra cotta mug and taking one for himself. He watched her a she inhaled the soothing scent and kept her hands around the cup for warmth.

— "Days?" he asked.

Frances' mouth twitched sideways; the sign that she didn't know at all.

— "It could be days, months, or years. It depends if they take time to recruit worshippers in this galaxy to increase their strength. Those ascended beings have all the time in the world after all,"

Kristan nodded pensively, his gaze guarded. Despite everything he had heard about those Ori, he had yet to see one, and the effect he had on people. This threat was still pretty theoretical in his mind. The fact that Frances was worried, though, wasn't a good sign at all. His danger scale was presently submitted to her gauge since he knew nothing about this world.

— "All right. Eat, and drink, at least. Let us rebuild our strength"

'We', for he needed a break just as much as she did. How she could still function was beyond him after all this back and forth in the stars. From Montpellier to the Daedalus, Daedalus to the SGC, earth to Camelot, Camelot to the Odyssey and back, Camelot to the Korolev, and now back again. Phew. Kristan felt like he was ready to pass out. They ate a little; the stew was delicious, its fragrances reminiscent of Vanora's cooking. Frances relaxed a little as she savoured the meat morsels dumped in the heavy broth, speaking fondly of past situations when SG1 had barely made it home. She berated herself for not being so confident now.

— "You are worried for them."

Kristan's simple statement was met by an unexpected outburst.

— "Of course I am! Sam, most of all. She's just a woman, lost into space with a limited amount of oxygen. If someone doesn't pick her up…"

— "But you don't leave people behind, right?"

Frances froze; Kristan quoting her – on the forest of High Languedoc – who in turn had been quoting O'Neill was unexpected. What a memory!

— "Yeah. Someone is going to get her, I hope."

Frances deflated, somehow. Yes, of course, SG1 always applied Jack's motto, no matter what. But sometimes … sometimes the impossible was just impossible. And Jack wasn't here to get her out of this mess. Would Mitchell find a way? Or any other member of the SGC? Daniel perhaps?

— "What about Teal'c?" asked her companion.

Frances knew what Kristan was doing – getting her to talk to rationalise her fears – and couldn't help but send him a shy smile. Now that they were alone in this mess, she found that his presence brought her strength. Like a marble pillar holding a temple together, earthquake after earthquake, Kristan was by her side. First, saving her from the dark elves when they barely knew each other, and now on the edge of their galaxy, watching her back. Tristan had kept his promise to watch over her, and for this, she would be eternally grateful. Squeezing his arm, she answered his previous question, missing the look that bore into the fingers enclosed around his biceps.

— "Teal'c can rather pull through anything. He has the most horrible habit to launch himself in harm's way, but he is stronger than any of us altogether. He's been through torture, and close to death too many times. He's a mountain, a pillar sturdier than the pyramids of his former masters. I'm sure we'll see him again"

Kristan's smooth voice confirmed her thoughts.

— "Yes. He certainly seems indestructible. What about Daniel? You two seem close"

There, he had asked the question he wanted answers to in the most subtle of ways. Frances was too exhausted to realise his voice had hitched slightly, his lips pursing as he wondered about their relationship. Kristan picked up his mug in an attempt to cover any unwanted expression that could possibly cross his features; he didn't want Frances to understand he was jealous.

— "We are close. But he has more lives than a cat. At worst, he can always ascend and descend again if he dies. If the ancients allow him to. He is pretty invulnerable now, I think."

— "What do you mean?"

— "You heard Jack. Daniel had died eight times now. So I worry, of course. But not as much as I used to. He's put me through horrible times, all those times he died, and all the ones he barely did. We had a tacit accord with Jack; I watch Daniel's back when he can't, and vice versa"

Kristan's eyes opened like saucers above the brim of his drink. He had not forgotten Jack's words before they left for Camelot, nor what he had said earlier about Daniel dying 8 times. He just thought it was a figure of speech, one of Jack O'Neill's many jokes. Turns out it wasn't.

— "I understand O'Neill words better now."

Frances chuckled at that.

— "Don't die?"

Kristan sends her a half-hearted grin, a lopsided smile that gave him a mysterious air. Frances' heart skipped a beat before she could focus on her thoughts again.

— "Now… Daniel is more powerful than any of us, really."

— "That explains a lot, especially why people listen to him."

Frances gave a fond smile; her affection for the archaeologist written plainly upon her face. But it wasn't enough to determine if she wanted more or not. Daniel treated her like a respected sister. Before Kristan could mull on his fears, the young woman reached for him again.

— "You know, that gives you a common ground actually. Here, you're the only two men who've died for years and came back. Although he only ascended once, the second time not entirely"

Kristan decided to steer clear from his jealousy, and focus on the man instead. This ascended business might help him after all.

— "He mentioned he lost his memory when he came back."

— "The first time, yes. I believe he used meditation a lot. Maybe you can get a few tricks from him if you want to remember specific things."

— "Maybe I will"

Dinner, or lunch, or whatever meal was discarded soon. They were so jet lagged at this point that it didn't matter: food was food, and the stew as good as any. Frances was sipping at the tea with delight, amazed at the comfort it provided. In truth, Kristan's presence by her side was more soothing than any tea in the world. Repressing a giant yawn, she scooted her chair closer and laid her head on his shoulder. It felt so right, her presence against him, that his bruised muscles – from the earliest electrical shocks – relaxed instantly.

— "Just a moment, to rest my eyes," she said. "You don't mind lending a shoulder?"

— "My shoulder is all yours," he responded seriously.

And he meant it … if only she could realise it. What of Daniel Jackson? What of Legolas? Bah, he was too exhausted to linger on this. In less than ten second, Frances was fast asleep upon his upper arm. At any other time, Kristan would have marvelled at the warmth her contact created in his chest, and the trust she gave him by just falling asleep on his shoulder in the middle of a war. But right now, his whole body was screaming. Laying his head upon hers, his position slightly awkward on the chair, Kristan followed her in slumber less than two minutes later.

Frances awoke to the sound of rocks being dragged upon the ground. Lifting her head – she didn't remember falling asleep on the desk – she squinted in the fading light of the day. A few curses echoed in the corridor that led downstairs, and she jolted to her feet. The familiar voice uttered a few grunts, and she ran to the opening; she'd never heard Kristan curse before. Heart beating wildly, the young woman collided with a taut form as she stepped through.

— "Ooof"

The air whooshed out of her until a pair of familiar arms embraced her. It was so comfortable there that she narrowly missed falling asleep against him again. His chest called for her cheek to settle!

— "Sorry. I'm a little hazy," she said.

Kristan bent his head, taking in the flushed cheeks and unfocused chocolate eyes. With the light fading, it hid the hazel streaks, making her gaze warmer. They were so close that the slightest of movement and his lips would be upon hers. Kristan blinked, reluctantly letting her go.

— "No worries"

— "I've heard you. Anything wrong?"

A slight blush crept to his cheeks.

— "Ah sorry, I was just struggling with something. Look what I found"

Only then did she realise that he held a flat sheet of bronze in his hands, about the size of a paper sheet but an inch-wide. Kristan walked up to the desk and set the item down next to the candles. His sharp intake of breath didn't cover her exclamation. For there, right before their eyes, laid an engraving so vivid that it couldn't be from the fifth century. Even more amazing was that it portrayed the knights of the round table, and Arthur, before a large fortified city. Arthur and Guinevere – slightly plumper – Lancelot, Gawain, Dagonet, Bors … and on Arthur's left side stood Galahad, herself … and Kristan. Not Tristan the scout, no. But him, with his shorter hair and inner light, a smile adorning his lips. His hand was set around Frances' waist in a protective gesture, both of their swords strapped at their hips, armours absent. A moment of peace, given the true smiles on the warrior's faces.

The lines were carved with a laser or similar technology, like a thousand needles that created a very detailed portrait with a technique an impressionist might have used … in the nineteenth century. Something so out of time that it could only have been created by ancient technology. Mouth agape, Frances traced the patterns on the bronze-coloured metal. What this even an earth bound metal? Eventually, though, she turned her startled gaze to Kristan.

— "How? How did you come upon that?"

Standing beside her, the former scout towered over her and she had to crane her neck to catch his mesmerising eyes.

— "Well. I figured Merlin might have left clues the old way. So I checked every goddamn rock in here, and below, and found one that didn't seem right"

Frances' eyebrows lifted on her forehead. To say that she was gobsmacked by Kristan's patience was an understatement. Hell, Tristan always told her she was lacking in this department, but at this rate, she didn't expect to match his anytime this century!

— "Let me get this straight. You found a rock, in the thousands this building has, that didn't seem right?"

Kristan merely shrugged.

— "You know, back in the days, we often unsealed rocks to hide things behind. My knife and I worked on the mortar for a while, it was pretty stuck."

A smile slowly crept upon Frances' face, and she had the urge to hide the blush that coloured her cheeks, remembering the good laugh she had at seeing Galahad's demise in their dagger throwing competition. Biting her lip, head bent upon the engraving, she shook her head slowly.

— "You and your knives…. this is such a medieval instinct. I never would have thought of it, with this technology and all. Only you could have such an idea."

A sudden doubt ran through her spine. First, the riddle about the PI number in Avalon's cavern. Then, this, hidden in such a way that only the scout could think of it. With all the ancient technology he had, why did Merlin leave it there? As if he knew that Kristan would find it. As if he knew the Keeper of Time would be there, in Avalon's cavern. If her theory was true, then Merlin's choice of Tristan in the first place had been a message…

— "You call me medieval?"

Kristan's jest surprised her in her line of thoughts, and she responded without thinking.

— "Yes, and I love it."

Kristan froze. Frances dipped her head lower, unable to sustain his smouldering gaze. She just wasn't ready to face the truth of her unguarded thoughts. Too much was going on for her to think clearly. Then, slowly, but gently, the knight gathered her to his side, setting his arm over her shoulder to hug her close. Just a gesture, one that conveyed support, without asking for more. Frances sighed happily, her eyes set on the engraving.

— "What does it mean, this picture?" he asked.

A surge of happiness swept her out of her feet. There was only one way for this picture to be created. And it filled her with joy!

— "It means we are going to see them again."

This tremendous piece of news set Frances back to work in a different mindset. Realising that she couldn't possibly decipher the hundreds of books and scrolls by herself, she decided to ask Meurik if they could gather some of them at the SGC, with the explicit promise to return them unscathed.

The governor was hesitant; he had every reason to be. His historian was dead by Lancelot's hand after all. Ensued a heavy discussion about the Ori and their true nature. And when Frances mentioned that, should the Ori come upon the planet, the best chance of Camelot's people to stay alive was to abide by their rule, Meurik categorically refused.

— "We will not bow to any religion but the one Arthur has graced us with, Lady Frances. It simply cannot be"

Several officials agreed with his words, heads bobbing up and down in the dim light of the evening. Frances massaged her brow in frustration; she understood their reasoning. Arthur always called for loyalty in his subjects, even a thousand years after his death. Yet, there was no other option if Camelot wanted to keep existing.

— "You don't understand, Meurik. Those Ori can do miracles, but they are powered by evil spirits. Should your people rebel against them, you will be burnt. Killed, or tortured"

— "We will gladly die for our faith, my lady," said one of the elders.

Frances sighed, trying to find another angle.

— "Arthur wouldn't want you to. Until we find out how to defeat them, it is on the only way to protect your people."

Meurik's face was full of wisdom as he nudged her shoulder gently.

— "We trust that Arthur will return, and save us all from those 'Oris' you fear so much, my lady."

The faith they displayed was not to be swayed, and the young woman frowned. If the Oris showed up on this planet, they would massacre all those who refuted their false gods. A death warrant, for an entire city … or worse. But then, Kristan appeared by her side, holding the engraving for all of them to see. Standing tall, his gaze intense, he felt every bit the intimidating scout he once had been. Not even the BDUs could downplay his commanding presence.

— "I am afraid I have not been forthcoming enough, governor. I was once the knight called Tristan. For fifteen years, I fought alongside Arthur against Merlin, until they made peace. Look, and let me show you King Arthur, and the knights of the round table."

Then Kristan pointed his finger to the knights, recounting tales of old about them in detail with an eloquence that made Frances' eyes bulge – who knew he could talk so much, and so grandly? Of course, they recognised Lancelot. But no one dared asking about him being the dark knight; Kristan bore Tristan's persona to perfection, smothering any doubt in the egg. Gaping, they realised that Kristan and Frances stood alongside their beloved King and Queen. Once his effect was secure, minds stunned, the former scout unleashed his power over them all, straightening his spine, glowering over them.

— "The lady Frances will find Arthur. We will tell him how you had to bow to the Ori to save your people, how you obeyed our wish to save Camelot until his return. We cannot vanquish the Ori without him and Merlin's power. He knows your hearts are true, we have witnessed your devotion. Until then, you need to do what is necessary to protect Arthur's people."

His diatribe aimed true, like the arrows of Cupids piercing lovers' hearts, not one soul left the library unconvinced. Tristan was a man of few words, but they always served their purpose. Meurik bowed to him, awed to have met the fearsome scout in person. And so did the others, spreading the tale, and his instructions, like a wildfire into town. Frances thanked him with a crooked smile, impressed, once more, by the man he had become. How lucky she was to have him by her side!

And this is how, after a brief contact with General Landry on earth, SG-11 joined them on Camelot with crate after crate to pack the most important books of the library. They worked late into the night, until Kristan dragged Frances to the hostel they had slept in the first day. By then, she was frantic, pulling at her hair, torn into choices she didn't feel legitimate to make. This or that scroll? What about the languages she didn't read? Maps? Drawings? Facing the bed, her mind still lingered in the piles of manuscripts she had to sort. SG-11 has already taken four crates, and was scheduled eight hours from now to return. She had no idea what she would put inside.

— "I don't think I can do this, Kristan," she eventually said as he sat on the lone bed. "Choosing books and leaving the rest. What if I miss something important and take junk?"

— "Then we'll come back and return Merlin's junk."

The tentative at humour fell flat as Frances shook her head. Something was not right. A sense of doom that crushed her chest and told her she wasn't allowed to make mistakes. But it wasn't rational. For a moment, bright flames engulfed the place, and she had to blink to chase them away.

— "Frances?"

Kristan regarded her with suspicion, but said nothing. They were, after all, weary to the bone. A few hours' sleep could only set their minds right. Still, something nagged at him. He was quite sure he'd seen this expression on her face once before, but for the life of him, couldn't remember where or when. His own memory was fuzzy, especially since some of it came from his past life.

— "I feel inadequate. I'm just the stumbling apprentice here."

The young man actually scoffed in annoyance, something Tristan would never have done and called Frances' attention.

— "An apprentice that has been chosen to restore balance to the force here and there by Gods. Believe in yourself Frances. You are the Keeper of Time, who else than you to find out what is important?"

— "Daniel would do it without messing up. I'm lost without him!"

A sudden urge to shake her seized his guts, and Kristan suddenly stood. He clenched his wrist, exhaling slowly to refrain from grabbing her shoulders. Lack of sleep certainly didn't help his quick temper, and he wasn't in the mood to hear her belittling herself. Or worshipping Daniel.

— "Daniel has worked as an archaeologist his whole life, of course, he'd be better than you are! But you are here, now, and you don't need him to do a good job or O'Neill wouldn't have let you stay. Even Daniel trusted you, he was the one who sent you there, no?"

Frances lifted her arms to the heavens, frustrated.

— "Don't you see? He sent me there so that I didn't get you killed up there!"

The tone of his voice suddenly hardened, anger surfacing at her challenge. This relationship of self-sacrifice left a sour taste in his mouth.

— "It's you he wanted to save, Frances! It was you he was worried about all along."

The young woman blanched, legs like jelly as she heavily sat on the feather mattress. The former knight cringed; he expected retaliation, not to crush her. But she was too exhausted to fight him.

— "There. You've said it anyway Kristan. Daniel's choice was not driven by his trust in my abilities."

Her dejected answer drained his anger faster than a river breaking a dam. Kneeling before her, Kristan picked one of her hands in his. Her skin was cold to the touch; the result of exhaustion. Rubbing her palm without thinking, he told her gently.

— "He trusts you; don't you ever doubt that"

Kristan shushed her before the protest passed her lips.

— "I've seen it in his face."

The young woman accepted his explanation without question; Tristan, as the scout, was used to pick up any information from people's eyes and postures. An inherited trait that the silent, observant Kristan still possessed. It was now or never. Sitting beside her, the knight swallowed but didn't release her fingers.

— "Frances. Do you harbour any feelings for him?"

The young woman eyed him warily, trying to discern the reason behind this very unexpected question.

— "Not like that. We are just … very good friends. He is the only one who could understand what I went through as the Keeper of Time, even if he didn't know about it."

— "How?"

She didn't make sense. How could a man possibly help her through the Keeper of Time's trials despite him being oblivious of the fact?

— "Are you willing to hear it without shouting at me?"

There was a challenge in her brown eyes, and Kristan let go of her hand with a sigh. He had messed up badly, accusing her like that. And even if his chest felt lighter; the relief of knowing she wasn't romantically involved with Dr Jackson, mistreating her triggered his guilt. His next words were as genuine as they come.

— "Yes. I am willing to hear anything you ever want to tell me."

The young woman nodded, and suddenly laid down on the bed. Such a breach of boundaries, but they were way past this. Kristan followed with a groan. How incredible, to just lie down on a soft bed, even if the blasted sheets scratched at his skin. It didn't matter; they would both sleep fully clothed anyway. The bed was wide enough to put three of him. Nothing intimate. Frances turned on her side, watching him do the same so that their eyes could meet.

— "Daniel always lived in multiple worlds, pulled apart from different points of view because he can mould into cultures. His empathy allows him to integrate the way of life from the past, the future and the present. No matter what, no matter where, he becomes one with a population, seeing the best in it. And in the end, he is pulled between all of those parts of himself"

Kristan nodded, his eyelids getting heavier by the minute.

— "He lived a year in Abydos with his wife; a local. She was the reason he joined the program in the first place, to get her back when… His mind wanders the paths of time and cultures, while I had to live through them. His wisdom had soothed my aches, his gentleness kept me afloat when I lost people."

She wouldn't tell him that Daniel had lost his wife to death when herself had been separated from Legolas. They had both supported each other in this trial, even though Daniel had not known the particulars of her lost relationship and subsequent cloning. This part of history belonged to the archaeologist, and she didn't want to disclose too much. Kristan's eyes were still set on her, keeping his promise as he listened to her qualms.

— "He was a model. He gave me hope, Kristan, hope that goodness would prevail in the world, in the galaxy. Hope that I could use in my travels as the Keeper of Time, thriving to always do the right thing by my heart."

— "Like dragging a set of villagers across Briton's mountains in the snow?"

This time, she found the strength to smile. Tristan had been adamant – albeit silently – to leave those people behind and save his brother's asses, but Arthur would not hear about it. And an order was an order. Were it not for Frances, Dagonet would have died out of this endeavour. Right from wrong, ethics, and self-preservation fighting among themselves in the fifth century.

— "Things like that, yes. Or fighting against ten thousand Uruk-Hai on a stormy night alongside the youth of Rohan"

Kristan was starting to understand what she meant. How many times had he deplored the lack of honour of the 21st century? Finding a north star of sorts might have kept her sane, especially when she travelled back from the past. He knew he had trouble finding his place in this crazy century because of his past memory. What about her, who travelled regularly for months at a time, only to be thrown back into the throes of modern society? How could she react when she received a phone call asking about her internet subscription? When she had to file up for her taxes, for her insurance? When a few days prior, she had been fighting Saxons on Badon Hill and burying friends from lack of antibiotics?

— "As long as Daniel was alive, we kept our conscience. In the FBI and Interpol I was taught about rules and efficiency. Not altruism nor ethics. But Daniel … he showed me the way. Encouraged me to keep my heart open despite the setbacks and heartaches"

Kristan suddenly turned on his back, eyeing the joists that drew shadows across the ceiling.

— "I understand now. You and Daniel as very alike. I remember, from up there, wondering how you managed to keep this empathy open, to not close off"

Frances refrained from asking more about the memories of him as a ghost. This discussion might very well last until the wee hours of the morning, and they couldn't afford it. But she wanted things about Daniel to be out of the way. How could Kristan possibly think that she wanted the archaeologist that way? She wondered. Somehow, she wanted to clear it out; this misconception didn't sit well with her conscience. Why would he care anyway?

— "I had never met somebody like me before. I just realised the beauty of this mindset when Daniel managed to keep it, and thrived to keep being me, instead of becoming a cold heartless bitch."

He heard the slight sniffle, and the way she swallowed, her throat thick. Should he provide comfort, where the lurches of his heart left him bereft?

— "When he died, I felt all hope was lost. Jack took it pretty bad. Sam was depressed … a difficult time for all of us. But he came back from up there. They found him on a planet, without memories"

Kristan resumed his former position, facing Frances with a gaze so intense that she shuddered. A few blond strands framed his face, falling over to slightly brush one of his cheekbones like Tristan's used to do.

— "So did I, in a way"

The young woman nodded; her eyes still misty. Taking in the sight of the man before him; a man she had lost and never hoped to find again. A miracle, foreseen by none other than Daniel.

— "More than four years, Kristan. It was an awfully long time, especially since … you were here, on earth, living your own life while I thought you dead."

A bitter chuckle shook Kristan's chest as he thought of his previous marriage.

— "Failing my own life less than two thousand kilometres away from you. I know"

A pause. Then it came; the apology that should have offered long ago. The ultimate admission of his fiasco. His eyes were downcast as he talked, the silk of his voice so low that she had to scoot a little closer.

— "I am sorry it took me so long, Frances. I was supposed to be here to protect you…"

The young woman frowned at his admission; he had been there every time she stepped in the past. This, in itself, was rather extraordinary.

— "Don't blame yourself, Kristan. I'm glad you're here now."

Frances' hand lifted shyly, fingers twitching, before she dared resting it upon his cheek. Kristan's eyes shot to hers, ablaze with a fire she had only witnessed once. His heart thumped in his chest, the slight touch of her fingers on his face so intense that his body hummed.

— "I missed you," she whispered.

Time suspended as Kristan gazed into her shining eyes, the molten gold of her irises – the one that created star streaks in the very centre – enhanced by the flame of the candle. It was his cue to let her know how he felt. Kristan took a deep breath, and covered her hand in his. Warmth radiated through their fingers, a new sensation coursing through their bodies, running through their veins like a benevolent fire. Time suspended, a silent communion where words did not matter. Their own little bubble, expanding from their chest and beyond.

Until the heavy banging on the door jolted them apart and a young woman burst into the room, slightly winded.

— "An Ori priest has arrived, he asked the governor to gather all of us in the square," she said, breathless.

Frances jumped from the bed.

— "Fuck. If they find us, we're toast."

**_So, did you like it? I think those two are eventually getting somewhere! As LeeLee would say, please fav, follow and review _**


	8. Chapter 8 - Damned are the Ori

**_Hey all. I'm a bit shaken because my son has just ben attacked by a fellow schoolgirl. 3 years old, and she had scratched his whole face, barely missing his eyes. Last week she attacked another child. I wonder what can create such anger on a 3 years old :'(_**

**_Anyway. Last chapter in the Stargate digression - for now - and them off we go. Next chapter, we'll be back into Kristan and Frances' life in Montpellier. hich means next time, it will be 'The lone knight" that is updated - King Arthur section - chapter 14. Until further notice, of course: D I'm taking a little artistic license here and assuming the last discussion of episode 10x01 is happening in the SGC's infirmary rather than in the Odyssey's infirmary._**

**_Koba … as usual, thank you._****_ Yes, he almost had the perfect opportunity to get those feelings out … too bad he couldn't. Perhaps next chapter? _**

The maiden that had interrupted their little heart to heart had brought medieval clothes for them to better blend in Camelot. Albeit it was night, the SGC uniform would have been too obvious as they sneaked around the place. The main square was, unfortunately, the only point of exit to the fortified city. Arthur had designed it well.

— "I will wait outside while you dress," she said, giving Kristan an eyeful that left him bereft.

France would have chuckled if the situation had been less stressful. Either the lovely blond would have enjoyed seeing Kristan undress, either she wondered if they were married. Either way, the idea to have them change I front of each other unsettled the maiden. As it was, it was no use dwelling on it. As they shuffled out of their clothes, back to back, Frances's mind ran frantically. How were they going to get out of this mess? Would the Ori priest look for them? Did he have any knowledge of their presence? Of Merlin's library. Damn, he couldn't find it, nor could he learn about SG1's purpose. Merlin's weapon was their only advantage, provided they found it. And then it clicked. The flames. This is what they had to do. But could she commit such sacrilege?

Kristan passed the linen shirt and tunic with ease, the gestures familiar. Breeches were secured in less time than it took to sneeze, a pair of boots covering the lacings. Amazing, how easily he reverted to his old self in time of tress. The former scout was buckling his belt when a warm hand landed on his. He turned abruptly, finding Frances frozen in place. The laces of her dress were still undone, and he wondered if maybe, she wanted him to tighten them. Her skin was so pale that he feared she might collapse. Instantly worried, Kristan clasped his long fingers around her upper arms.

— "What is it?"

Frances shuddered.

— "The library. I think we should burn it. Correction, I have seen it burn."

It took only a second for Kristan to understand what she meant.

— "You had a vision," he stated.

And then it came back to him. That odd look she sported the day before, the same one he had seen in on the lake before Dagonet plunged into its icy darkness. The Keeper of Time's visions.

— "Yes," she breathed, horrified by the idea of burning books.

The knight nodded, then turned her around to fasten the laces. Her body obeyed without protest as she regained her composure, entrusting herself to his gentle care while she thought. The heavy woollen dress, a dull brown, hid her lean form perfectly. Without thinking, he tugged on the waist laces a little more to emphasise the small of her back. It unsettled him, somehow; getting dressed in medieval attire wasn't a surprise. He'd done it for LARPs and events in his medieval company. But helping a woman into her own gown so easily? Had Tristan had a woman before Frances? Or dressed the tavern wenches after … ugh.

— "I shudder at the thought of burning things that might have led us to the weapon, Kristan. Maybe we shouldn't"

Both of his hands landed on her shoulders, the heat radiating from his body as he paused his lacing.

— "War is war, little fairy. What is the consequence should the Ori find the weapon?"

— "They would wipe out the ascended, and have absolute control."

His voice vibrated through her, his mouth so close to her ear that blood ran to her cheeks.

— "Like Darth Vader's empire?"

Frances smirked at his attempt to make light of the situation, her body releasing a little tension under the firm touch of his fingers upon her collarbone. Yet she didn't move.

— "Worse"

— "Then it is the right decision."

Kristan wrapped the dark cape upon her shoulders before stepping in front of her. Her thanks were lost in the seriousness of the conversation, but her slightly flushed cheeks were testimony that his ministrations had been welcome.

— "We risk burning the entire city."

— "I know. I can't be helped. Didn't you say the Ori controlled fire?"

Her eyes widened at the thought.

— "Yes. You're right, it should give the Ori priest some license to use his powers to convince the people here. Maybe convert some. I just hope he can't revert the whole process and find the material we have burnt."

— "How could he, when he has no idea what is inside?"

— "Meurik will be livid, but we must protect this knowledge before they find out about it."

Kristan nodded in silence, contemplating the shadows dancing upon her face one last time before hell broke loose. Then she took a deep breath, and a resolved glint shone in her eyes. She was ready.

Sneaking in the dark, Kristan and Frances tried to blend into the crowd that swarmed the place. A herald shouted in the streets, stating that their presence was required in the main square to hear the Ori priest. Lurking in the shadows, they watched as people went the other way, curious and fearful of what was to come. Frances needed to erase all traces of their coming in the library before they set off.

There, they found Meurik, twisting his hands nervously at the idea of those Oris taking over his people. A heavy strain, even for a pair of sturdy shoulders.

— "I cannot deny my loyalty to King Arthur, Lady Frances. I am almost sure my people will do the same and refuse any Ori rule"

Frances sighed, and bore holes into the governor.

— "Meurik. They have collapsed an entire planet who refused to bow to them. Don't do this to your people. You must keep the façade"

A horrified look passed upon the man's features, and suddenly, he seemed ten years older. Kristan set a soothing hand on his shoulder, trying to control the appalled lurch of his heart. He had no idea the Ori could do such a horrendous thing.

— "You are doing what is best for your people, governor."

Meurik seemed to mull over the knight's words, considering Frances' warning as well as his eyes darted back and forth between the pair. Then he sighed, and clasped Kristan's hand in his own.

— "Find Arthur, bring our freedom back to us. Farewell, Sir Kristan of the round table, and Lady Frances"

— "Farewell, governor. May God watch over you"

And the governor disappeared through the heavy door. Kristan closed it instantly while Frances gathered the engraving and started to pile up their military clothes and material.

— "We need some sort of pyre, and seal the downside room."

— "I will do it," came Kristan's determined voice. "Start building the fire."

And she didn't protest about him ordering her about; Tristan had done the same, and always been right and efficient. Here, now, she wasn't a leader any more than he was. They were a team. For twenty minutes, they worked frantically, building a pyre with scrolls and books, Frances cringing at the idea that this precious knowledge could be lost. Every time she set an item on the pile, she wondered if she should have saved it the day before. Guilt and shame flooded her. Had Merlin stored them here as decoys, or of they actually contained real knowledge about Arthur and his lores? Every noise caused them to pause in the dark, heart beating frantically. Any minute now, Frances expected the Ori priest to find them. They would be utterly and totally screwed, and she would have to watch Kristan burnt to a crisp on the main square. Or worse.

No, they couldn't afford to be found. Her heart kept trying to jump out of her chest as she set furniture, clothes and books on the pile. Cold sweat trickled down her spine, the urgency fuelling her every move. Kristan added some shelves so that the room didn't look like a library; she could only bow to his quick thinking. Outside, the voices of hundreds of inhabitants could be heard. The Ori priest had not started his rant yet, awaiting more faithful followers to join his demonstration. Luck was on their side; the noise covered their messy work. At last, there was nothing left on the shelves.

— "Dear Valar, or Gods, dear Arthur, please forgive me," Frances uttered before approaching with her lighter.

Her hand was trembling so much that Kristan knelt beside her.

— "Let me," he said.

And she nodded, surrendering the responsibility of this great massacre to befall his shoulders. Such a strong set of shoulders … willing to do anything. It hurt so badly, to see the first flames eat at the antique scrolls. To know that she was responsible for setting ablaze fifteen hundred years of history. It was like being a terrorist in Alexandria's library. The old parchment caught like crisp, eager to be consumed, and very soon, the fire was too strong to be smothered. When it started attacking wood shelves, they knew there was no turning back.

— "Let us go now"

Kristan's voice shook Frances out of her daze. Confiding the engraving to Kristan, she pulled the hood of her cape upon her head. The former scout mimicked her, hiding his blondish hair and tall form in the garment before they stepped outside. Frances locked the door of the library silently, sliding the key in between her breasts; thank the sports bra. All was quiet outside, save for the strong voice of the Ori priest. Kristan had never seen one; he was in for a nice surprise.

Cautiously, they stuck to the shadows created by the corbels, those hanging roofs typical of middle-age architecture. Kristan's feet were silent, his presence barely distinguishable. Had she not been so attuned to him, Frances would never have known he was here. A perfect stealthy scout. As they came closer to the main square, the Priest's voice echoed along the open corridors of thatch and wooden building. His voice, already, rose like a sinister crow of bad fortune.

— "Shed your antiquated beliefs, people of Camelot, for the Ori have come upon you to bestow their power."

Murmurs and grumbles passed through the crowd, discontent of all sorts. Kristan barely had time to take a peek from his superior height before Frances signalled a narrow street. He followed closely behind her with careful steps, trying to remain undetected. At night, Frances could blend in more easily because her hair didn't stand out so much. He, for one, had more trouble for he was tall. And people never forgot his face; especially after his little stunt against the dark knight. For a moment, they could not distinguish the words being said, treating in the alley like a pair of thieves. Kristan felt like the hero of 'Assassin's creed', except that there was a very blafard man awaiting to gut them, or worse, on the other side of those buildings. This was no LARP, and the bad guy was more than creepy. The short, but careful glance he had sent the Ori priest left him sweating.

At last, the main door came into view. It wasn't barred; thank Meurik for his thoughtfulness. But the Ori Priest stood nary ten feet from it, there was no passing behind undetected. Kristan couldn't help but feel guilty, for at this very moment, Camelot's library was burning to the ground. Their careful barring of the main door was still delaying the alarm; no one had signalled the smoke … yet. Neither could they smell it; even with their sensitivity to odours. They both hoped that the agitation would give them an opening. For now, they just needed to wait in the shadows.

The night was beautiful, the stars shining above them unknown to earthlings, but not veiled by pollution of the lighting of cities nearby. Never before had Kristan seen such a pure sky. It could have been a romantic setting had his heart not feared to be discovered. Frances had told him stories of the Oris, how powerful the priests were, and helpless they would be facing them. Those guys didn't even fear bullets, nor nuclear bombs. Not that he would leave his sidearm behind, mind you. His gun was the only item they had not left to burn, and Frances' P-90 rested below the cloak on her back. Despite the heavy gunnery, the former scout didn't want to face them, nor witness their abilities firsthand. Scooting closer to Frances, he allowed his body warmth to invade her. The young woman laid back a little, enjoying his presence, her eyes and ears on the lookout. Kristan squinted in the night. From here, he could see the priest from behind, a little sideways.

A bald head, a long robe, discoloured and disfigured features whenever his head turned around. His powerful voice grated on his nerves, as if the man had swallowed a pack of chalks. The priest took a few steps forward; he was less than pleased by the throng's rejection of his masters. Then his hand landed on Excalibur. Now, he was almost facing them. Kristan expected the priest to take the sword from the stone to prove his worth. But instead, the priest glared.

— "Your King Arthur was but a man. Forsake this religion, for they can be no other than the Ori to lead you to the path of enlightenment."

And Excalibur turned to ashes in his hands, and so did the stone, crumbling into a pile of dust as the priest's feet.

— "Hallowed are the Ori," he concluded, his grating voice laden with threat.

A collective gasp ran through the crowd, and anguished cries echoed within the high walls of the main square. They relic, fifteen hundred years old of history, and Arthur's legendary sword had just disappeared before their very eyes. Frances bit her lip, tears burning her eyes. Behind her, she could feel Kristan's body tense, and she shot her hand backwards to grip his cloak; a hopeless try ton anchor herself in the face of destruction. His fingers found hers immediately, shaking with anger. If the ever level-headed scout lost it, the riot was inevitable.

— "Fire! Fire!"

A relieved sigh escaped her lips as panic settled in the square. How peculiar, to relish in the smell of acrid smoke in a medieval city who could burn to a crisp within the hour! Hell broke loose then, and the crowd started running frantically. Some going to the well, mothers gathering children, others utterly lost, running for the gate. The priest disappeared in the crowd, and Frances tugged at Kristan's hand. The scout, stunned by the loss of Excalibur, followed without a word as they passed Camelot's huge doors in a rush. They were not alone to head outside, mothers and children mainly, and their forms hid them well. Then they ran down the cobbled road path without turning back, leaving them all behind, guilt stabbing their guts. The high walls blocked the faint moonlight, and haphazard droplets started falling down the sky as they dashed all the way through the tall grass and beside the forest path. Was the rain conjured by the Ori priest to handle the brazier? Frances hoped so as she struggled to keep up with Kristan's long strides. Faster and faster, legs pumping, the orange glow of the fire like a herald of doom in their back. Their breath now was the only sound as they pushed their bodies to their very limit.

The stargate appeared before them, and Frances punched the address on the DHD without an ounce of hesitation. Any minute now, that damned priest would find them and force her to watch Kristan's death. Cold dread has long invaded her body, forcing her to refocus every single moment. Panting, Frances pressed the symbols, the chevrons locking on the gate with a noise of scraping metal. Then her hand settled on the rounded crystal in the middle, and the gate burst to life. The wooshing of the horizon seemed to resonate so strongly in the quiet night that Kristan cringed. If he had not heard the locking of chevrons, there was no way the priest didn't know they were here, now. Could this damn Ori servant teleport? Frances fumbled slightly with a little device, the identification code – she explained – so that the iris wasn't closed upon them on earth. This defensive shield would squash them before they could reintegrate, hence the need for SG codes. Once she was sure it had been received, she reached for his sleeve and ran to the steps. As she launched herself into the rippling horizon, Kristan had no qualms about following.

The trip back through the Stargate certainly was more unsettling than being beamed through Asgard technology to the Odyssey. The horrible screeching echoed in his ears, frying his brain as the coldness settled in his bones. Then he was propelled forward, and would have landed right on the ground had Frances not stopped his doomed trajectory.

— "Close the iris!" she yelled in the gateroom, breath short.

A great set of metal blades enclosed the rippling horizon behind them, preventing anyone from following. Nothing happened though, and after a few seconds, the gate disengaged itself with a great woosh. Silence settled in and Frances and Kristan just stood, inches apart, trying to get their breathing back to normal. Her face was so flushed that she probably looked burnt. But it didn't matter, because they were both alive and safe. For now.

General O'Neill awaited them at the bottom of the ramp, slightly worried.

— "What happened?" he asked, sparing a glance at Kristan who now stood protectively close to the kiddo.

Both seemed unharmed, and Frances descended the stairs to meet him, chest heaving too fast.

— "An Ori priest is taking over Camelot. He has destroyed Excalibur… I don't think they will accept their rule."

The general pursed his lips, a frown marring his forehead.

— "Bad news for them, and bad news for us"

— "Yes. I'm afraid what the priest will do if they resist."

Frances couldn't help but wince at the implication, even when the former scout came to stand beside her, addressing O'Neill.

— "We have pressed the matter strongly to Meurik, the governor, that they should accept Ori rule until later but I am not sure if they will stand down"

Jack's brown eyes travelled from his face to hers, the news sinking in for later use.

— "All right. We'll deal with that when we can, if we can. In the meantime, I've got better news for you. SG1 is back in the infirmary"

A huge, incredulous smile brightened her weary features.

— "All of them?"

— "All of them, Vala included."

Frances groaned, but even the presence of the dark-haired woman was not enough to dampen the relief.

— "Who's Vala?" asked Kristan, back to his stoic self.

— "You'll see soon enough," grumbled Frances as she exited the gateroom.

They made haste to the infirmary. The last bout of adrenalin had replaced exhaustion, for now, and the news that all members of SG1 were alive and well had the effect of a dozen coffee on Frances. Bouncing up and down, she burst into the infirmary like a clown out of its box. Sam was the first to catch her eye, and she made a beeline for the blonde woman, passing the bed where Vala was resting.

— "Sam! I was so worried!"

The blonde Lt Colonel crushed the young woman in a mighty hug. It felt so good, to be alive! Once more, Frances had been right in her intuition. That sense of doom had followed her all along her adventures into space, and Sam had even wondered if she would die up there, all alone. Eventually, she released Frances and smiled.

— "It was a close call, but I'm all right, thanks to Cam"

Frances noted that the teammates were on first-name basis now – nickname basis even. Good. It meant they would watch out for each other on the field. Jack, eyes twinkling, stood next to Kristan close to the entrance. Oh, she knew how happy he was to see Samantha well and alive. His heart had probably threatened to give way more than once those past days.

— "Thank you, Colonel," he simply said, conveying his gratitude with a very serious look.

— "You're welcome, General."

Frances caught Kristan's suspicious gaze and refrained from smirking. Jack and Sam had probably been busted by the scout, but she wouldn't be the one to sell them. Mitchell sat beside Vala's bed, and she eyed him suspiciously; he looked well enough. Teal'c sported a large bandage around his chest, and she decided not to hug him this time. Wondering where he had got off, she nodded to him in the manner of his people.

— "I am glad to see you safe, Teal'c."

— "Likewise"

The answer was curt, but his gaze full of fondess. He, too, was happy to be alive. Kristan followed Frances' gaze as she turned to Daniel with a mock glare.

— "As for you, mister archaeologist, you had me worried for a while."

Daniel didn't seem too shaken by his near-death experience on the Korolev, shrugging slightly.

— "Well. You know how I tend to wander, don't you?"

Frances huffed, poking the archaeologist in the chest.

— "Yes. That's why I didn't pull my hair off right away when they told me you were missing … in space!"

Daniel hugged her briefly to his side, like an older brother would do with his little sister. But his heart was troubled. Before she could ask details on what had happened, a sultry voice interrupted her musings.

— "Aren't you going to introduce us to this nice piece of candy hiding behind O'Neill?"

The dark-haired beauty, stranded in a bed, summoned her best flirty smile, and Daniel rolled his eyes as she tried to peek at Kristan.

— "Hello there," she smiled. "We have never met, my name is Vala."

There was a glint of amusement in Kristan's eyes as he walked up to the bed, shaking Vala's hand with curtness. His imposing presence radiated in waves, and the older woman got caught in his intense stare for a moment.

— "No, we haven't," purred his silky voice, putting the temptress off guard for a moment.

A smirk adorned his lips as he pulled out, giving the woman little time to recover. For once, Vala's face was priceless. But his little game wouldn't put her off for long. Feeling a sudden, and overwhelming pang of jealousy, Frances couldn't contain herself.

— "If you lay a finger on him, I'll cut them off with a spoon," she threatened.

Vala's blue eyes widened slightly, a playful smile brightening her features.

— "Ow, laying your claim, little one?"

Oblivious to the smirks exchanged around the room, Frances huffed, taken aback by the challenge. For sure, Vala was a charming woman, and not opposed to using seduction to obtain what she wanted. But Kristan would never fall for her games, right? The man's intense gaze rested on her face, assessing what she would do.

— "Whatever. He's not yours to play with."

— "On the contrary," she slurred, "your friend seemed to enjoy the game."

Kristan straightened, his six feet towering over Vala as his stare pinned her into place even if his words were addressed to Frances.

— "Don't worry, little fairy. I'm quite capable of cutting any wandering finger myself."

Jack's eyebrow lifted up as Frances snickered. No one better than herself could catch the irony of such a statement. Tristan was feared, and revered, as the most ruthless of the knights. His reputation went from breaking bones to cutting fingers without provocation. Of course, both of them knew it to be false stories Vanora told her children to prevent them from annoying him. Still, when Kristan put his mind to it, he could summon a fearsome expression. So when he came to stand by her side, the claim was indeed made. Period.

Slightly abashed, Frances tried to kick her brain back to the issue at hand.

— "So, erm. What happened?" she asked.

It was Mitchell who offered the first explanation.

— "Basically, we got our asses kicked big time."

— "Yeah, I figured that," she responded in kind.

By her side, Daniel launched into a rant only he could summon, sharing a thousand information at machine-gun speed.

— "The Ori activated the supergate and flooded us, destroying the Korolev. The Odyssey is under repairs and the Lucian alliance had lost many vessels. As for me, I used the rings to get into the Ori ship, found Vala and her new daughter, and we escaped in Chula'k, which is now overrun by the Ori"

Jack O'Neill scooted closer; he actually seemed impressed by the younger man while Kristan interrogated Frances on Chula'k – Teal'c homeworld.

— "Wow Daniel, I never knew you could actually do the short version."

The archaeologist turned his wide blue eyes to the General.

— "Shut up, Jack"

Vala shuffled in her bed, visibly unsettled.

— "You should have grabbed for Adria, not me," she said.

Frances frowned, trying to reconcile that Vala, whom she had seen only once in the Avalon cave, had just given birth.

— "Your daughter?" she asked.

Vala nodded while Daniel coldly stated.

— "No, I'm thinking I should have shot her when I had the chance."

Frances started, horrified by Daniel's words. Gaping, she looked at him as if he had grown another head. But the archaeologist was serious; his jaw was firmly clenched.

— "Daniel, you couldn't have killed a child," scolded Sam, slightly unsettled with her friend.

— "She's not a child. She's an Ori in the body of a human."

Frowning, Frances felt the headache approaching at full speed. She started massaging her temples forcefully.

— "I don't understand. Is Adria not a baby?"

— "No, she was a preteen when we left. Accelerated ageing," stated Daniel, his voice cold.

Frances paced for a moment, before trying to summarise the situation. Facing Vala, she eventually attempted to piece things together.

— "So let me get this straight, you just gave birth to a baby that has been created by the Ori, and is now a teenager?

Vala shrugged in her bed, but her eyes spoke of her unease. How difficult could it be, to be used like a womb, and left without the baby you had just given birth to? Frances was reconsidering her dislike of the woman. Yes, she was a lying, manipulative bitch when she wanted to. Self-centred, and a danger to Daniel. But what she'd just been through … well, she didn't wish that for her worst enemy.

— "In substance, Yes," concluded the black-haired woman.

Frances sighed, feeling older by the minute.

— "Hallelujah. Super green. We're screwed."

She understood now why Daniel had mentioned killing Adria. It didn't feel right by her, of course, but somehow … it made sense. A quick glance at Kristan's face told her the cogs of his minds were running at full speed. She would have to ask for a piece of his thoughts later on.

— "So. Why did you get back in a rush?" suddenly asked Sam.

Frances turned to her, slightly dazed, before she regained her bearings.

— "Right. I haven't told you about that. Er. We might have burnt the library to the ground."

Daniel jumped to his feet, eyes bulging out of his skull.

— "What? ‼"

— "Let me explain…"

And Frances started her report, nice and clean, military style. And when Kristan produced the engraving, a hush fell into the infirmary. Daniel was at loss for words, and Mitchell couldn't keep his eyes from the piece of bronze.

— "Wow. A picture of the knights of the round table and King Arthur. This is … wow."

At this point, Sam approached, looking over Mitchell's shoulder, her clear blue eyes taking in every detail. It was nice, to put a face on King Arthur's and his knight's names. Daniel seemed still stunned by the news that his beloved library had gone into flames, and she slightly brushed his arm to call him back to reality. The archaeologist cleaned his glasses nervously before turning to Kristan.

— "Yeah. Good thinking. I would never have found it."

The knight tipped his head in acknowledgement, not unlike Teal'c would have done.

— "Old tricks from a former scout"

Sam observed him a moment; there was something solemn about the man, something that probably belonged to Tristan. Then her eyes caught Jack's, and she instantly knew what he was thinking. Who else better than an old soul to put up with Frances' crazy life? A ghost of a smile passed upon Samantha's lips before Daniel's exclamation claimed her attention once more.

— "Do you realise what it means, Frances?"

— "Yes. I do. And I'd rather we talk about it in private."

Vala's eyes squinted in displeasure, her deep voice cutting deep.

— "Oh, you still don't trust me, do you?"

But Frances remained unfazed. It was nothing personal, but Keeper of Time's business was strictly need to know, and Vala did not have the best track record when it came to keeping secrets. So it was with a ramrod back that she addressed the dark haired woman.

— "No, I'm sorry I don't."

Daniel shifted in his seat; he hated being stuck between the two women, especially since he had come to care for Vala. To say there were opposite characters would be an understatement. Fortunately, they didn't meet often. Beside him, Kristan couldn't help but be impressed by Frances' polite, but hard dismissal. He could see why Tristan liked her in the first place; there was something steely, buried deep with her core. Something that only came forth out of necessity, and that unsettled the archaeologist. But Daniel's uneasiness amused him; if he had known Frances for years, he probably still considered her much younger than she was today.

— "Well, er. Anyway. It might bring us some answers. In the meantime, I'll go through the crates. And if we don't find anything, I'll go to Atlantis to get my answers."

Then, soldier Frances reverted to the soft-spoken and insecure young woman.

— "Wait. Isn't anyone going to yell that I burnt down the most legendary library of the galaxy?"

Daniel's hand covered his face for a moment, Mitchell addressing him a sympathetic wince before he voiced his thoughts.

— "I hate to say it, but this is war. This knowledge cannot go to the Ori."

Jack O'Neill took a few steps forward, meeting Frances' gaze with a determined one.

— "You've done well, considering the circumstances, kiddo. And given you're back alive, the two of you, it's good enough. Good job, Kristan"

Daniel stood up, his bones cracking at the sudden move. Already, the wheels of his brain were running wild, his gaze slightly unfocused as he addressed Frances and her knight.

— "You can go home if you want. This research is going to take a while, I'll call as soon as I find something."

Then Dr Jackson just left the infirmary, already lost in whatever idea might have popped into his mind. Kristan's grey eyes followed him, his face impassive, the slight twinge of irritation hidden in their depth. By his side, Frances tried not to wince at the abrupt dismissal; she knew Daniel to be worried. Yet, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was pissed at her for burning the library. So when Jack's hand landed on her arm, she was grateful for his unspoken support.

— "Come, you two. I'm scheduled in Washington at 3 pm, the Daedalus can drop you back home. You're not due into work until Wednesday, by the way. I had the Airforce send an official message. Enjoy a day of rest, you look like you could use it."

A double sigh greeted this statement. Home. Rest. Yes. Definitely yes. And at the very moment they passed the door of the infirmary, Colonel Mitchell hailed Frances.

— "Say hello to Princess Melenwë for me!" he cried.

**_Please review, favourite and follow ! The lone knight will take over for a while, and then we will get back to more Stargate fun for a while. Hopefully finding Merlin to wrap loose ends._**

**_For those who watch the show, I hope I was in character. This is not the end of O'Neill's quips, don't worry ! We'll see him soon enough hehe._**


End file.
